Here This Whole Time
by portioncontrol
Summary: When I started reading fanfic on this site one thing I did was filter by word count. This story is just "Nothing But Blue Skies" and "If It Makes You Feel Better" joined together, because they do make one long story, in case someone else does the same thing.
1. 4a01: Mandatory Historiography I

MANDATORY HISTORIOGRAPHY CREDIT FOR SENIORS NEEDING TO MEET DISTRIBUTION REQUIREMENTS

Act I

* * *

Early morning in the Greendale cafeteria. Jeff sagged on one side of the booth; he didn't look like he'd spent an hour creating a rolled-out-of-bed look, he looked like he'd actually just rolled out of bed. "I was older," he said, stirring the coffee in front of him and watching the white spiderweb on black become a smooth brown mirror. "And I had a job teaching here, and… I don't remember much of it. It was a dream, you know? There's always stuff in dreams. Pierce was dead and Troy was old and Shirley was white and Annie was leaving to be an FBI agent. You were about the same."

Across from him, Abed nodded. "Annie would be a good FBI agent."

"Yeah, of course."

"Dreams are meaningless random pictures your brain makes while you sleep because it doesn't have any sensory input to process. It's a form of madness that everybody is just okay with for some reason."

Jeff looked up, slightly alarmed at the mention of madness. He looked around, confirming that there was almost no one else in the cafeteria — just him, Abed, and Shirley. Technically he had been Shirley's Sandwiches first bona fide customer of the semester. Shirley had credited Abed, though, since he'd ordered a breakfast sandwich and Jeff had only gotten the coffee, which he hadn't drunk.

"When you said last night that you wanted to meet early, you hadn't had your dream yet," Abed observed. "So you wanted to talk about something else."

Jeff glanced up, shrugged. "Yeah, no. I, uh, I'm a little out of it."

"Okay. We can just sit here in silence if you want. Usually you have your phone out when we do that, though." Abed gestured in the direction of Jeff's hip pocket.

"It's the first day of our fourth year here," Jeff said, unwilling to lapse back into silence. "I thought you might be worried about that."

Abed shook his head. "No."

"You're fine?"

"No. Yes, I'm fine, but I'm calling 'no' on you worrying about me. You never worry about me unless I act out in some kind of dramatic fashion, like trying to cut off your arm with a bonesaw —"

"When did you —"

"And I'm fine." Abed ticked points off on his fingers. "Troy is back in the apartment. Everybody is taking 'Mandatory Historiography Credit for Seniors Needing to Meet Distribution Requirements,' so the study group is staying together. And I made a cardboard Dream-Sedanette. Everything's fine."

"Well, it's the last year. Two more semesters, and I'll be back to being a lawyer, Annie will be running a hospital somewhere… Everybody will be leaving."

"Everybody leaves eventually," said Abed. "I know that sounds dark, but community college isn't a place anyone really wants to spend their whole lives. Plus aside from maybe you and Annie no one's going anywhere soon. I'm still at least five semesters short completing a film major because I just sign up for whatever classes sound good and my father pays for my expenses as long as I'm enrolled with a full courseload. Troy can do whatever he wants in the Air Conditioning Repair Annex. Britta wants to get a Master's, which will be at least two more years, probably more knowing her. Shirley runs the sandwich shop and pretends not to eavesdrop. Pierce…" Abed considered it a moment. "Pierce does whatever he wants."

Shirley picked that moment to carry Abed's sandwich over to them. It was some unholy amalgam of bagel, cheese, egg, and sausage that both attracted and repelled Jeff in equal measure. He suspected the whole thing had been soaked in butter.

"Here you go, Abed," Shirley said, affecting a gentle lilt. "A number one with sausage. I wasn't eavesdropping, but there's nobody else here and the acoustics in this cafeteria make it hard to avoid hearing you. And Jeff just worries about you like we all do, because you're important to us." She sat down next to Jeff, across from Abed in the booth.

"Jeff's not worried about me," Abed said through a mouthful of seductively greasy-looking heart disease. He's worried about Annie."

"What? No I don't!" For a moment Jeff was thirteen years old again, red-faced and trying to deny he had a crush on a girl. Seeing Shirley's eyes narrow at his vehemence, he forced himself to calm down. "I mean, I'm not. Annie's fine."

"You mentioned her leaving twice in the last two minutes. He's worried about Annie," Abed told Shirley.

Shirley twisted in the booth to face Jeff. "Jeffrey, is this true? Is there something you know about Annie that we don't?" She leaned forward. "Is it pills again?" she whispered, then straightened up. "That's ridiculous," she said in a normal tone. "She's a very strong person, even if she hasn't yet come to Jesus, and she doesn't need anyone fretting over her."

"I'm not fretting over anybody. Do I look like I'm fretting?" Jeff forced himself to visibly relax. "I'm not a guy who frets, unless you're talking about stringing guitars, which I also don't do. I could, because as we all know guitars are cool, but I don't, because as we all know effort is not cool."

"Mmm hmm." Shirley sounded doubtful. She stared at Jeff, trying to divine his intent.

"Anyway I'm going to go get some coffee before class starts," Jeff said in a rush. He slid out of the booth away from Shirley and rose to his feet.

"I just gave you coffee," Shirley protested. She pointed to the paper cup still on the table.

"And it was great," Jeff assured her. He scooped the cup up and drained it in a gulp. Fortunately it turned out to have cooled enough he didn't scald himself, but scalding himself had been a risk he was willing to take. "But I'm out, and instead of getting a refill from you I'm going to run over to the Starbucks and pay too much money for something with soy and espresso that a chesty girl in a green apron will hand to me and smile, because that will make me feel better about myself."

Shirley stared at him a moment. "I can't help but feel a little hurt," she said, affecting a gentle tone. "I know my sexuality intimidates you, but I could get a green apron, if it would make you more comfortable." She exchanged glances with Abed. "Jeffrey, what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all. I'll see you in class!" Jeff called over his shoulder as he dashed out of the cafeteria.

"Jeffrey!" Shirley shook her head slightly.

"This is a good sandwich," Abed observed as he finished it. "Did you get it from Subway? They do breakfast now."

Shirley stared at him a moment.

* * *

Annie sat alone in the apartment, losing at Fruit Ninja on her phone, and tried not be angry. She had no reason to be angry. People could do whatever they wanted; no one owed her an explanation much less consideration. She had chosen the choices she chose to choose; it wasn't Troy's fault.

Still, she was annoyed. Not angry. Barely irritated. But annoyed. Annie and Abed and Troy had made plans, or at least she had made plans in their presence and they hadn't disagreed. Yet here she was, waiting alone.

Annie was about to give up and walk to school alone when she heard footsteps outside, followed by the thump of someone leaning against the door. Giggles. Troy's voice, too low for her to make out the words. Annie straightened her dress and adjusted her hair as a key turned in the lock and the front door swung open.

"Morning guys!" she cried as cheerily as she could, as soon as the door was open. Troy was, as she'd guessed, still wearing what he'd had on when he left the night before.

Britta unwrapped from around Troy and stopped pressing him against the doorframe. "Annie, hi."

"We were just practicing for a play," Troy blurted out.

Britta elbowed him.

"We were kissing," Troy admitted.

"That's fine." Annie made a show of going back to her game of Fruit Ninja. "Did you get the milk?" she asked, off-handedly, as though she were just making idle conversation.

"Milk?" Britta repeated.

Troy winced. "Oh, that's right! I'm sorry, I got distracted when Britta sexted me…"

"Don't say 'sexted,'" Britta interjected. "All I said was 'hey what's up?'"

"Yeah, like that's not being sexy," replied Troy. He shifted his weight and leaned close to her. "Hey, girl," he said softly, "what's up?"

Britta giggled, and started kissing him — their mouths were only about two inches apart, it wasn't hard.

Annie cleared her throat, and they decoupled.

"See?" Troy waggled a finger in Britta's face. "And you're way sexier than me!"

"You think?" Britta asked, surprised and pleased.

Troy nodded, and Annie cleared her throat again, preemptively. "On the one hand, aw, you guys are adorable. On the other hand, I was going to use that milk to make First Day of Classes Pancakes."

"Damn, I could have had pancakes?" Troy snapped his fingers. "Curse you, sexy devil-woman!"

"Hey, this is the first I'm hearing about milk!" Britta stepped back from Troy, into the apartment. "That one's on you, Lucy Liu."

"Actually I texted you about it, when I realized how long Troy had been gone and what he was probably doing," said Annie.

"Did you?" Britta checked her phone, and grimaced. "Yeah you did."

"Anyway it's okay. Abed went and got milk and I made the pancakes this morning."

Troy's face lit up. "Yeah? Did you make any shaped like Mickey Mouse?"

"In the fridge." Annie pointed to the kitchen. "But I don't think you have time to eat it now. We've got to get to class."

Troy nodded absently. "Where's Abed?"

"He went in early, I don't know why." Annie shrugged. "Were you guys supposed to do something?"

Britta turned to Troy. "I didn't break up some planned Troy-and-Abed hijinks, did I?"

"Nah." Troy shook his head as he stepped closer and put an arm around Britta. She snuggled into him. "I don't think so." He glanced at Britta, as if she were his appointments secretary, and then the glance turned into a straight-up _look_ , and then they were leaning in…

Annie cleared her throat a third time, and Britta and Troy decoupled again.

"You need water or something, Annie? You don't sound good," said Troy. "I don't know if you've noticed but you're clearing your throat a lot. Is it allergies?"

She fixed her smile in place and rose to her feet. "I'm fine."

Britta, recognizing Annie's mood, took a couple of steps back from Troy. "You need to grab your backpack," she reminded him. "We gotta get going."

"Right." Troy nodded. "Especially if we need to stop and get antihistamines on the way." He pushed past Britta, and headed off towards the Dreamatorium. Which, Annie reminded herself, was as of the day before yesterday _Troy's room_.

"Are we being awful?" Britta asked Annie anxiously, once Troy was out of earshot. "I've never been dating, um, a friend's roommate like this before. Is there some kind of code? I haven't had a lot of female friends. Was I supposed to text you? Is that the rule? I'm more into tearing down gender stereotypes than playing into them in the name of some ill-conceived vision of sisterhood that was probably created in some all-male writer's room…"

"Britta." Annie stepped close to Britta, put her hands on Britta's biceps and held her gaze.

"I'm babbling?"

Annie nodded. "It's okay. Everything's okay. I mean…" Impulsively she slid her arms around Britta and hugged her close. "You guys seem really happy."

"Yeah. I mean, well, sure." Britta suddenly sounded doubtful. "I mean, right now we're at the honeymoon phase, you know? Where you spend the first couple of weeks in bed together and it's only afterwards you find out he's…" She trailed off. "You know, not what you thought."

"Oh. Um, right." Annie was glad she was still embracing Britta, so Britta couldn't see the look on her face. She hadn't ever quite had that particular experience. A sudden sting of jealousy came out of nowhere, surprising her. She'd moved on from Troy as a romantic prospect literally years ago, and she was on record as thinking Britta and Troy were cute together. But Annie had never gotten to the deliriously-happy stage of a relationship. The closest had been with Vaughn, but even then she'd been aware she was forcing it, deep down…

Britta spoke, rousing Annie from her reverie. "It's okay?"

"It's okay." She tried to think of something to say that Britta wouldn't take the wrong way. "I'm glad you're happy."

From the way Britta sagged against her, Annie surmised she'd picked the right thing. She heard Britta sniffle into her ear. "That's the nicest thing a guy's roommate has ever said to me." Britta straightened up, wiping her eyes. "I mean, you're not just a guy's roommate, you're Annie. You're my friend. We do girl stuff together and everything." She sniffled again.

"Dang it," said Troy as he returned from his room, bookbag slung across his back. "Britta, you've got allergies too? Did Abed get a secret cat again?"

* * *

9:22. Eight minutes before the start of 'Mandatory Historiography Credit for Seniors Needing to Meet Distribution Requirements.'

Jeff pressed his way through the crowded hallway. Whatever else you could say about Greendale, its recent trials hadn't reduced the incoming student body any. Distressingly young people thronged about him, making it difficult to reach the classroom.

"Jeffrey!" A familiar voice cut through the din.

Jeff turned reflexively. "Yeah?" _I have got to stop doing that_ , he thought to himself. Acknowledging Pierce only ever made things worse.

"Jeffrey," the older man repeated as he approached. He clapped Jeff on the back as though they hadn't just been together at the trial with Alan, and then the Biology final, less than a week ago.

If they had been separated for months, Jeff might have been minimally glad to see him, but as it was… Jeff said nothing, waiting for Pierce to get to his point.

Pierce was wearing a surprisingly nice suit, something tailored after Bush the Senior left office for once. "Jeff. The Jeffinator." Pierce blinked a few times. "Jeffarino," he continued. "Jeffacaboodle. Jeffapalooza, making copies… Jeff Jorf Jim, the Jeff-Jeff Man! Butch Cassidy and the Jeff Winger Kid! Winger! The Wingman! The Winginator. Wingarino…"

If Jeff didn't say something he would keep this up for minutes. "Hey, Pierce."

"I'm glad I caught you, there are several things we need to talk about."

"Uh. Can it wait until after class? You're signed up for 'Mandatory Historiography Credit for Seniors Needing to Meet Distribution Requirements,' too, right?"

"Hah, actually, no. Funny story…" Pierce paused to push his glasses up his nose. "Wait. Is that Starbucks?"

Jeff glanced down at the cup still in his hand. "…Yes?"

"As co-owner of Shirley's Sandwiches, I'm very disappointed in you, Jeff." Pierce leaned forward conspiratorially. "As a man, though, that barista with the boobs is a real babe, right? The redhead?"

"Sure," said Jeff, because it would end the conversation quicker.

Instead Britta appeared from out the teeming throng. "Guys! Everybody else is already inside. We saved you seats…"

"I won't be needing one," Pierce announced. "You see, after seventeen years of classes, I've finally graduated from Greendale Community College, effective as of last Friday."

"Um, congratulations?" offered Britta.

"Why are you here, then?" Jeff asked. Clearly something was up.

"Well, I…"

"Pierce!"

Pierce broke off as his name was called. "Carl! Richie!" He waved.

"Who?" Jeff asked Britta, who shrugged.

Two members of the school board, each with an open can of beer, sidled up to them through the thinning crowd of students. "Greendale school board in the house!" cried the big one.

"Woot woot!" chanted the little one.

Pierce exchanged high-fives with them both. "Woot woot indeed," he agreed.

"Who's your friend, Piercelstein?" The little one leered at Britta. "You need some course credits? I can hook you up."

"What? How many credits, I mean," Britta swallowed, "how dare you!"

The big one, Richie, laughed nervously. "He's joking, of course. We don't do that any more, Carl."

"I've been invited to join the school board!" Pierce explained.

Carl nodded. "After what happened last semester we needed someone to scapegoat in case the whole story ever gets out."

"And of course Pierce Hawthorne is a pillar of the community and an ass, ah, ash," Richie held up one finger while he took a swing from his beer. "Sorry, I was trying to say _asset_ to the board. It's been a long day."

"It's nine thirty in the morning," Britta muttered.

"Yeah, but I'm still drunk from last night. We were inducting the Piercinator here into the Greendale Community College Board of Trustees."

"Ain't no party like a Greendale Community College Board of Trustees party," sang Carl. "'Cause a Greendale Community College Board of Trustees party don't stop! Don't stop, don't hop, hop, hop, bippity-bop…" Carl started dancing, to go with his impromptu freestyle rap, but stopped when no one joined in. "Are we not dancing?"

"TGIFriday's on a Sunday night is a wild scene, let me tell you," said Pierce. Then he started, remembering something. "Did you not get my text inviting you?"

"Probably. I mean, obviously I don't have your number blocked, what kind of friend would I be then? Anyway, it's great that you're finally moving on to better things," Jeff said, "and a better class of people," he added, eyeing Richie and Carl.

"Oh, don't you worry, Jeffrey," Pierce said with a chuckle. "I'm not going anywhere, believe you me."

"Uh huh, great. Did you come down here just to tell us that?"

Britta checked the time on her phone. "Hey, yeah, everybody's inside! Class is about to start!"

"I gotta do a thing," Pierce told Richie and Carl.

"No problem." Richie shrugged. "I have a court appearance in an hour anyway."

"And I'm already late for AA." Carl said, checking his watch.

"Meet you afterwards at Chili's? Awesome blossom? Awesome blossom? Awesome blossom?" Pierce suggested, pointing at Carl, Richie, and Jeff in turn.

"Pass," said Jeff. "I have way better ways to slowly poison myself." He turned away from the school board and crossed the now-empty hall into the classroom.


	2. 4a01: Mandatory Historiography II

MANDATORY HISTORIOGRAPHY CREDIT FOR SENIORS NEEDING TO MEET DISTRIBUTION REQUIREMENTS

Act 2

* * *

"Britta," said Pierce, clapping her on the back as they followed Jeff into the classroom. Troy, Abed, Annie, and Shirley were already seated, "How long has it been?"

"Like a day and a half," Britta said as she took the seat on the end next to Troy.

"Oh, I remember sitting in classrooms like this with you guys," Pierce said wistfully as he took the rearmost seat in the room, behind Abed. "Like it was just yesterday."

"Instead of six days ago?" Jeff had slid into a seat between Shirley and Annie. He grinned at Annie as she shushed him.

"Is everybody here? Jeffrey? Yes?" The dean appeared, suddenly, in the doorway. "Hello putative rising seniors," he began with a wave.

The class managed a 'hello' back, in ragged unison.

"Welcome to 'Mandatory Historiography Credit for Seniors Needing to Meet Distribution Requirements,' or as I like to call it, Man-Hist-Cred for, uh… Sennedmet Dist-Req." He started to write that on the chalkboard in the front of the room, and got as far as Cred before giving up. "I'm sure you've noticed that the course syllabus and instructor are both listed as TBD in the catalog. And probably you're thinking that I'm here to shed some light on this mysterious… Man-hiss-cred." He gestured towards the letters he'd scrawled behind him.

"Or maybe you're wondering why instead of something fun like a sexy bee or sexy Indian chief or sexy mustard or frog, I'm in administrator drag like this?" The dean indicated his corduroy jacket and tie. "Well, I can answer both concerns with the same answer: a compulsory anti-shilly-shallying initiative led by one of our school board's newest members! Pierce?"

"Thank you, dean," Pierce said, rising to his feet. "Ladies, gentlemen, Vicky." He scowled at Vicky, who scowled right back. "As you all know, I'm Pierce Hawthorne, leader of the so-called Greendale Seven. We saved the school when it was overrun by feral children, this past spring? You remember."

There was a murmur in the crowd. Almost all of the students in 'Mandatory Historiography Credit for Seniors Needing to Meet Distribution Requirements' had shared classes with the study group over the last four years.

"As a direct result of that series of unfortunate events, I was asked to spearhead an initiative… one of many policy initiatives I've spearheaded over my illustrious career… you know, I approved the funding for the Hawthorne Paper Products research team that developed an artificial lime scent safe for use on wipes for babies of all races? Not just white and black, all the miscellaneous ones, too. So I know a thing or two about inclusion and the importance of diversity and other PC buzzwords."

"Where is he going with this?" Annie whispered to Jeff. Jeff shook his head, unsure.

"And I also know, thanks to experiences with several other formulations of artificial lime scent, a series of class-action lawsuits, and binding nondisclosure agreements…" Pierce paused, apparently for dramatic effect. "I also know the importance of sweeping potentially damaging information under the rug. There's a sign-in sheet… has everyone signed it? Where is it?"

The sign-in sheet, the top sheet of several on a clipboard, was at that moment being passed to Abed.

"Okay, once everyone has signed that, I'll continue. In the meantime, uh, dean, why don't you explain to the class that there is no 'Mandatory Historiography Credit for Seniors Needing to Meet Distribution Requirements' and we made it up?"

There was a chorus of _what?_ s and _I don't understand_ s and _let's riot_ s from the crowd. The dean, who had sat back down at the front of the class during Pierce's speech, rose again to his feet. "Calm down, calm down, everybody, it's all right," he told them. "Pierce is right. Man Hiss was our invention to get everyone who intends to graduate at the end of the year together, for this series of dramatic announcements. Why?" he asked, repeating the questions students in the front were already peppering him with. "Because no one reads my emails, that's why! No matter how many exclamation marks I use!"

"But I checked the student handbook," muttered Annie. "There is a mandatory historiography requirement, and there aren't any other historiography classes besides this one."

Shirley, next to her, nodded in agreement. "I don't have time for this damn foolishness!"

"I know, I know," the dean said, trying again to quiet the crowd. "No one has time for my damn foolishness. And besides if you were all in one class it'd be too big and it'd violate the fire codes. Technically we're in violation right now, but I won't tell if you don't." The dean made a pooh-poohing gesture. "Anyway there will be two sections of Historiography offered. I have the schedules right here. The A section," he held up a sheet on a clipboard in his right hand, "meets for one hour, Monday through Friday, at six in the morning, and the B section," here he flipped to the second page on the clipboard, "meets Thursdays in the afternoon lab slot, from one thirty to three. I have here two more sign-up sheets, I'm going to pass these around. We can't have more than twenty-five students in each section, so, when one fills up, it fills up."

"Speaking of sheets, has everyone signed in yet? Yes? Yes!" Pierce scooped up the sign-in sheet from Britta, the last to sign in. "I'll be right back."

"And apparently Pierce will be right back," said the dean, as Pierce ducked out the back door of the classroom. "So that's fun."

The dean handed the sheets to someone in the front row, and the crowd of students surged forward. Everyone wanted to sign up for the class that didn't meet at six in the morning.

Stuck in the back of the class, the study group tried to push through the crowd, but couldn't reach the front.

"I don't believe this," said Troy. "We're being punished for sitting in the cool section!"

"But isn't sitting in the cool section its own reward?" offered Abed.

"That may be true," conceded Troy. "I would have to think about it, and I have a better idea!" He leaped up onto the table in front of his seat, and hopped forward to the table in the next row, and on until he stood head and shoulders about the rest of the class, in the midst of the crowd busily signing up for the weekly afternoon section. "Yoink!" he cried, snatching the clipboard out of Leonard's hands.

"Hey!"

"Shut up Leonard," Troy said over his shoulder as he hopped back on the table-tops to the rest of the study group. "You're old and bald and don't have any friends!"

"There's no need to be hateful," Leonard said quietly.

Troy reached the study group only moments ahead of the crowd of their fellow-seniors. He tossed the clipboard down into their midst, as everyone circled. With admirable teamwork, Jeff, Britta, Shirley, and Abed formed a human shield around Annie, who held the clipboard and a pen.

"Hurry up and write our names!" Britta said with a groan. "Someone's elbow is digging into my back!"

Annie flipped back and forth between the two sections' pages. "You guys, there's a problem. There are only two slots left in the afternoon section." She started writing their names in the morning section, beginning with her own. Unsurprisingly it still had plenty of slots open.

"It's not a problem," said Jeff. He snatched the clipboard away from her.

"Hey!"

Jeff scanned the afternoon section roster, and crossed out four names of people he didn't like. "Now there's six." He scribbled his name in one of the remaining blanks, and Annie's below it. He'd started on Abed's, in the margin with an arrow pointing to one of the crossed-out names, when Annie snatched the clipboard back from him.

"Jeff! You can't do that!" Scowling, she crossed out her own name on the afternoon section's sheet.

"What are you doing?" Jeff shrieked as Annie added his name to the morning section's sheet. He pulled it away from her and started crossing out and writing names, she took it back and did the same, and so on.

The clipboard passed back and forth between them several more times before Vicky finally broke through, between Britta and Shirley. She grabbed the clipboard and threw it, overhand, across the room where another student caught it. "Not everything is all about you!" Vicky snapped at the group before dashing off in the direction she'd thrown the clipboard.

"You know that's not true!" Jeff called out to her.

"Where did we end up?" Shirley asked Jeff and Annie. The pair exchanged nervous glances.

"I'm not sure," Annie said.

"I can't believe you wrote my name in the morning section," Jeff told her.

"You crossed it out!"

"And you crossed out your name in the afternoon section!" he retorted.

"Jeff, we wouldn't all fit in the afternoon section."

"That's okay! They don't all have to take the same section as us. They could have taken the morning section, and we'd find some blow-off elective to take with them."

"Listen to yourself," Annie said coldly, her arms folded. "What 'us' are you even talking about?"

Before Jeff answered he heard the dean calling, once again, for order from the front of the classroom. "I don't know why I always do it like this. Somebody always gets trampled, you'd think we'd learn. Oh, well. Would somebody help Kyle to the health center? Thanks, great…"

The class gradually took their seats again as the dean leafed through the two section sheets. "My, you people really made a mess of things, didn't you? Hard to believe you're all only a few credits short of bachelor's degrees. I'm going to read off these rosters, just to make sure we have the right head count. Starting with the afternoon section, I see Annie Kim, Frederick Lindstrom…"

It turned out that, at the point Vicky snatched away the rosters, Jeff and Annie had managed to split the six of them fifty-fifty between the two sections. Jeff, Abed, and Britta were in the afternoon section, while Annie, Shirley, and Troy were in the morning section.

"See what you did?" Jeff and Annie demanded of one another.

"Oh, you spoke in unison! I love when people do that," said Troy.

"I don't see why _you're_ upset," Annie snapped at Jeff, ignoring Troy.

"Calm down, both of you, please," suggested Shirley in her best Mom voice.

"Because now we're in different sections, which was totally preventable!" Jeff retorted, ignoring Shirley.

"Apparently who's in the afternoon section doesn't matter so long as it's you. And the rest of us can just find some blow-off elective to take with you."

Jeff smacked his forehead and ran his hand back through his hair. "Maybe? I have a really tight schedule this semester and next, to graduate on time. I wanted to take some more classes over the summer, but when we had to retake Biology…"

"So that was just an idle promise? Augh!" Annie spun away from him, her hair flaring out, and stomped out of the classroom.

"Annie!" Jeff called, chasing after her.

Britta, Shirley, and Troy all shook their heads and sighed. Abed sighed, too, a moment later.

"Those two are so exhausting," Shirley said.

"Tell me about it," agreed Britta.

"Yeah, so exhausting," agreed Abed. "Who are we talking about? Are we talking about Jeff and Annie, or Neil and Vicky, or Pierce and the dean, or Ross and Rachel on _Friends_ , or…?"

"Why would we be talking about _Friends_?" asked Shirley. "Bunch of skinny white people who sit around drinking coffee all day."

"I don't know!" cried Abed. "You all three made the same face a minute ago." He pointed at them accusingly. "Don't deny it. When you all make the same face like that, it means there's been some kind of cue I missed."

"I don't see why the afternoon class is such a prize, anyway," said Troy. "It's at the same time as my Advanced Seminars on Truth, Beauty and Freon class in the AC Repair Annex."

"You're taking a class called Advanced Seminars on Truth, Beauty and Freon?" asked Shirley.

"Actually I'm teaching it." Troy smiled bashfully. "On account of I'm, you know, their messiah."

"Ooh!" Britta snapped her fingers. "That's it! You get the AC Repair guys to get you all into the afternoon section with us! They can do that, I bet."

"What? No, I'm not going to ask them to do that. I'm teaching a class then."

"You can teach it any time, though."

"No, I can't, dummy," Troy replied. "It's the only block of time in the week that the hot tub isn't booked."

"There's a hot tub?" Britta looked incredulous.

"Who said hot tub?" Troy said quickly. "Nobody said there's a secret jacuzzi and sauna in the AC Repair Annex."

"C'mon," she whined. "Do you really want to get up at, like, five for a six AM class?"

"I get up at five every morning," said Troy.

"No. Really?" asked Britta.

"He does," Abed said, nodding. "And he's really cheerful, too. It's kind of disgusting. No offense," he added to Troy.

"None taken, buddy." Troy and Abed did their special handshake. "You could switch to the morning section," he said to Britta.

She laughed. "Yeah, I could… oh, you're serious. I'm not doing that."

Before Troy could respond, the dean called again for order. "I want to turn things over to your new Historiography professor. Wait, where's Jeffrey? We can't start without… ah." The dean nodded as Jeff slunk back into the classroom through the rear doors, stonefaced and without Annie.

"Well, without further ado, let me introduuuooouuu…" The dean began to mime a drumroll, and held the diphthong until a few students at the front of the room gamely beat their tabletops. "…Duce Doctor Winston Armitage, formerly of Yale!" The dean applauded furiously, and the class joined in. "Winston?" the dean called towards the open front door of the classroom.

"Doctor Armitage." The professor who sauntered into the classroom from the hall was the tweediest man any of them had ever seen. His corduroy jacket and tie appeared to have been the model for the dean's own outfit, and his profile wouldn't have looked out of place on the obverse of a coin. "Hello, students. I'm not certain I understand the pedagogical reasoning behind these theatrics, but I assure you there will be none in the actual course."

He glared at the dean.

"The syllabus is being passed around," Dr. Armitage continued. He gestured towards the dean, who had a stack of thick stapled packets. "Now, as it indicates, this is a writing-intensive course. Over the twelve weeks of class, you will be expected to write six papers. Nothing fancy there, just six to eight pages on one of the approved topics. Every day in class there will be a quiz over the previous lecture's material. The mid-term will be an in-room open-book exam, and for the final you will write an annotated bibliography. I ask students every year at the end of class what one piece of advice they'd give their younger selves who were just beginning, and the number one response each time is to start working on the bibliography immediately, because if you put it off until the last two weeks of classes you'll never finish in time. Now the breakdown of points is twenty percent quizzes, twenty-five percent… yes?"

"The, uh, there's, uh, not enough… syllabuses," said Garrett, who'd had his hand raised.

"There aren't enough syllabi?" repeated Dr. Armitage. "Hm. Are people only taking one each? There should be twenty-five, one for each person in the section."

"Both sections are here, Winston," the dean interjected.

"Both…?" Dr. Armitage shook his head. He counted students, shaking his head in annoyed disgust. "I'm only teaching one section. We agreed to this, Craig." He turned to the dean. "One section, no more than twenty-five students, and you stop catfishing my sister."

"Well, okay, I mean, firstly, what is catfishing, anyway?" The dean threw up his hands as Dr. Armitage kept scowling. "Right, yes. I have someone else teaching the other section. You're completely independent of each other."

As Armitage and the dean continued to argue, Jeff turned to the group. "Is everyone else hearing this?"

"Absolutely," said Abed. "It's a classic devil-you-know scenario. On the one hand, staying in Armitage's class will mean insane amounts of work and possibly failing. On the other, the other class meets in the middle of the night —"

"It's not the middle of the night, the middle of the night is 3:07 AM exactly," interrupted Troy. "You know that, measuring it was your idea."

Abed nodded, accepting the correction. "The other class meets very early and is made up, at this point, mostly of people whose names Jeff crossed out from the first section. So do we stay in Armitage's class —"

"Troy and I aren't in Armitage's class," Shirley pointed out.

"Or do we plunge into the unknown?" Abed pointed at each group member in turn. "Unknown? Unknown? Unknown?"

"Obviously we switch to the morning section," Jeff said wearily. "There's only eight people in it now, so that won't be a problem."

"You're only saying that because it's what Annie wants," Britta snapped. "I move we disregard Jeff's opinion entirely."

"I'm not just saying that for Annie's sake!" Jeff protested.

"You always do whatever she says." Britta turned to Abed, Troy, and Shirley for support.

"She's right, you do," said Shirley.

"You complain and refuse to do it, and then you do it," agreed Abed.

Troy nodded. "It was cute at first but it's played out now."

Jeff slapped the table in front of him in a call for order. "Listen, I'm not going to write papers for some freak of nature who actually wants to grade a hundred and fifty eight-page papers, three hundred quizzes, twenty-five exams, and twenty-five annotated bibliographies. I don't know what an annotated bibliography is, and I don't care to learn. I… don't… care… to learn," he repeated, emphasizing each word in turn. "Who's with me?"

"I'm in," Britta said immediately. "I don't want to learn, either."

Abed nodded.

"Well, again, Troy and I are already in the morning section," Shirley said. "So we only need to stay where we are, and your little drama doesn't affect us."

"Great," Jeff said. He rapped the table for emphasis. "So we're agreed."

"Jeff comes around and Annie gets exactly what she wants," said Britta. "There's a shocker."

"I… no. I'm not going to engage." Jeff closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"What if all the other students in the afternoon section decide they don't want to write three hundred papers either, though?" Britta asked no on in particular.

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Troy said, blanching slightly. "Look who Pierce just brought in." He pointed to the front of the room, where Pierce had led in the instructor for the morning section.

 _"Buenos dias, children!"_


	3. 4a01: Mandatory Historiography III

MANDATORY HISTORIOGRAPHY CREDIT FOR SENIORS NEEDING TO MEET DISTRIBUTION REQUIREMENTS

Act 3

* * *

"Let's all just calm down and take a good long look at the situation," the dean said. He sat behind his desk, trying not to cower as the study group loomed over him.

"Why would you hire Chang?" Annie asked him. In the twenty minutes since the 'class' had ended, she'd rejoined the group and been filled in on what she'd missed. "Chang! He tried to kill you!"

"He kept you prisoner in the basement for weeks!" said Britta.

"He faked his credentials!" said Troy.

"He's the father of Shirley's baby!" cried Pierce. He glanced around. "Isn't he? I kind of lost track."

"Oh, the black woman doesn't know who the father of her baby is? That's racist." Shirley wagged a finger at Pierce.

"Didn't you not —" Abed fell silent as Shirley stepped on his foot.

"Be that as it may," said the dean, "there are good reasons to bring Ben Chang back on the payroll."

"Name one!" Pierce bellowed.

The dean squinted at him. "It was your idea!"

Pierce shook his fist. "Not good enough! Wait." He looked thoughtful. "It was my idea, you're right. Sorry, fellas, I got a little carried away."

"The most important thing about the events of this past spring is that we never discuss them or deal with the ramifications or examine the logical developments that ought to emerge from such a drastic shake-up of the college's status quo," the dean explained. "We're just going to sweep it under the rug. We already swept is under the rug, actually, so this is just neglecting to clean under the rug, and who cleans under the rug? What's the point of that?"

"This does feel very contrived," Abed said.

"Contrived, fine, whatever Abed. The board of trustees voted, unanimously, that they did not have any cause to fire Chang from his position of as chief of security, because if they did then there'd have to be an investigation. Then I pointed out that Chang had tried to murder me and several other students, you guys," he gestured to the study group, "you know? And so Pierce here said that if he couldn't stay on in security, why not bring him back to the faculty? And here we are."

"He doesn't have a teaching certificate or a degree," Annie pointed out. "We've been over this."

"Oh no!" The dean's mouth made an O as he covered his cheeks with both hands. "One of Greendale's faculty lacks credentials? What a shock!" He lowered his hands. "Welcome to the real world, Annie. It's not all hot moody guys who moon over you and then deny it."

Annie looked flustered, but pressed on. "If the state board finds out about this, Greendale could lose its accreditation…"

"Exactly," said Pierce. "I remember why I wanted to cover Chang's crimes up, now. If we didn't keep him on staff he'd go leak it to the state board, and then Greendale would lose its accreditation. I don't think you want Greendale to lose its accreditation in your fourth year here, do you?"

"But this Historiography class…"

"I made it up! There's no such thing. I brought in my brother-in-law Winston to cover. Historiography," repeated the dean. "Is that even a word?"

"It is, yes." Annie did a double take. "Wait, you're married?"

"Kind of." The dean made a so-so gesture. "Little bit."

Annie and Jeff exchanged glances. "All that aside," Jeff said, "there's no way the six of us could be in a class with Chang teaching."

"He! Tried! To! Murder! Us!" shouted Britta.

"I know, I know, shut up," said Pierce. He chuckled in an avuncular manner. "Everybody signed the release form and liability waiver that I cunningly disguised as a sign-in sheet. And I'll be sitting in on his class to make sure that he abides by the terms of our agreement. Think of me as Chang's superior… no, that sounds racist… think of me as just better and more important than Chang. Eh? Eh? Yeah?"

"I want to change my answer from before about what constitutes an implausible contrivance," said Abed.

"It'll be fun! A nice relaxing six o'clock class… meeting up at the end of the day! We can all go out for drinks afterwards." Pierce threw an arm around Jeff, who straightened up in an unsuccessful attempt to slip free.

"It's six AM, not six PM, Pierce," said Annie.

"Oh, it… is it? Of course it is," said Pierce. "I meant, uh, energy drinks. Coffee? People still drink coffee, right?"

"Some people do," Shirley grumbled, shooting Jeff a look.

"Well, then, it sounds to me like we've resolved this issue," said the dean. He stood up from his chair. "Thank you so much for coming in and bringing these issues to my attention."

"Did you just stand up so we'd leave?" Britta asked him.

"Old management trick," Pierce observed to no one in particular.

"Did I just…" The dean turned and glanced at the chair behind him as if seeing it for the first time. "Huh. I, um, guess I must have. Did it not work?" He sat back down, then rose again. "How about now?"

* * *

The end of the day, off-campus at a bar. Annie sat alone at one table, course schedules and listings and transcripts spread out in front of her. Jeff found her there, and sat down at the table without saying anything.

Annie didn't look up. "Are you here to help, or do you want to break into the dean's office and change the student handbook so that you don't need a historiography credit to graduate? Or heck, why not just change the rules so that the credits you already have are enough to get you a diploma? Then you can get out of here right now and leave all this behind!"

"Annie, c'mon," Jeff said to her. "Be fair. We're on the same side, here."

"Are we? Are we really? Because I'm on the side of doing what it takes to get our degrees legitimately." She looked up at him, then quickly ducked her gaze back down to the papers in front of her.

"That's what I want, too. I mean, unlike you I don't go out of my way to make things harder for myself…" _You don't?_ a voice inside him asked. He ignored it. "But you know I don't want there to be any irregularities I have to explain away to the Colorado state bar."

"Uh huh," Annie grunted. "If you say so. You'll say whatever you need to, after all."

Jeff sagged in his seat. "Annie, that's not true."

"You were all 'we can just find some other free elective we can all take' and then you were like 'I don't have time to take another free elective,' blah blah blah." Annie worked a surprising amount of scorn into each _blah_. "That's what you sound like."

"I only said that because I'd put you and me on the list already. I…" He trailed off, struggling to find the words. "We were in the same section, you and me. That was the important part."

"Why is it important that you and I be in the same section? Is this all so you can copy my notes?"

There was a long pause before Jeff answered. "You remember the beginning of last year, when I wasn't in the Biology class with you and the rest of them?"

"You told Pierce that it didn't matter that he wasn't in the class, because we were all friends, and then that was revealed as a tissue of lies, or, no." Annie snapped her fingers. "A paper towel of deception spread across the spill of… I had a metaphor there, it's gone now."

"My point is that we _are_ all friends," Jeff insisted. "You're not going to suddenly lose Shirley. I've tried and failed to get rid of Pierce. You live with Troy and Abed, and Britta's… with Troy, so she's around for at least a couple of months until novelty of the sex wears off and they self-destruct."

"You know," Annie began, "relationships do sometimes work out…"

"No, they don't," Jeff replied. "Trust me. I've tried it. It seems great at first but then the little things add up and then you're fighting all the time, and, this is not a mistake I've made but I've seen it happen, you have a kid together because you think it'll bring you closer and instead it's just another thing to fight about and then you leave the mother of your son, a woman who once loved you and who can't stand you, good riddance she says, and…" He trailed off, then sighed. "We'll take this class together, whatever it ends up being, and you'll get an A+ and I'll get a B-. Next semester we take, I don't know, is there a second half?"

She nodded. "Mandatory Historiography Credit for Seniors Needing to Meet Distribution Requirements Part B."

"And then we'll graduate and you'll go on to become queen of the University of Colorado Hospital, or head of the FBI…" Jeff didn't notice the thoughtful look that crossed Annie's face. "And I'll start up a solo practice and probably bankrupt myself in six months, because 'no longer suspended by the bar association' isn't a great advertising slogan, and maybe someday if I'm lucky I'll bump into you in an airport bar sometime and you'll struggle to remember my name. In the meantime, let's just take a class together."

"You're kind of all over the place. We'll never get rid of Pierce and I live with Troy and Abed, but someday I'll forget your name in an airport? Are you just not capable of being straight with me?"

"I…" Jeff's response was cut off by Troy.

"There you guys are!"

Troy, Abed, Britta, Shirley, Pierce, and Chang filed into the room. "You were right, buddy," he told Abed. "They did move off-campus."

"It's the fourth and probably final season," Abed explained, "so there's room in the budget for a new set that emphasizes the cast's changing dynamics."

"So this is going to be our new hang-out spot?" Chang asked.

Pierce turned to him. "I told you to stop following us!"

"How long has he been back there?" Shirley asked, appalled.

"It's a free country!" Chang retorted. "Or do you think that just because I'm Chinese you can exclude me, like Chester A. Arthur when he signed the Chinese Exclusion Act in 1882?"

Everyone looked confused.

"Didn't think so!" Chang said triumphantly, and sat down at a table next to Jeff and Annie's.

The rest of the group settled in around their table. "Annie was about to explain what, exactly, historiography is," Jeff said.

Chang scooted his chair around. "That's great because I have no idea."


	4. 4a02: Good Food Buymanship I

"Good Food Buymanship" Act 1

* * *

Jeff pulled into the GCC parking lot about a minute and a half after the start of class. He turned his car off and sat there for a minute, just holding his coffee and staring off into the middle distance. He didn't notice Shirley until she had opened up the passenger side door and slid in next to him.

"Jeffrey, what the hell is the matter with you?" she demanded.

"Aren't you missing Chang's class?" he countered. "It's your chance to find out whether Annie can teach a class entirely by remote-control."

"When you didn't stop at Shirley's Sandwiches yesterday you said you were going to be there early today. I made you a damn egg white carb-free _thing_ that you know no one else is going to want. Now it's cold."

"You're painting a terrific word-picture, really getting my mouth watering," Jeff said, "but we don't have time."

Shirley held up the paper bag he hadn't noticed she was carrying. "There's a coffee in here too," she added, casting a baleful eye towards his Starbucks cup.

"Yeah, well, I'm on this new thing." Jeff glanced sideways towards the classroom building, wishing for once he were safely in Chang's lecture where no one could accost him with probing questions. "No lactose, so, soy lattes only for me." He shook the Starbucks cup in his hand, indicating the SOY scribbled on its side.

"This is soy," Shirley said flatly. "I can do soy. Why are you doing this?"

"I just…" Jeff swallowed, trying to come up with a plausible lie. "I just like empty, soulless corporatism more than your lovingly-crafted product. That's the kind of guy I am: empty, soulless, and corporate."

"That's not you." Shirley's eyes narrowed. "Is it a girl?"

Jeff sighed. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, it's a girl. There's this barista, Mandy. She's got red hair and she smiles when she says my name and it's pathetic but knowing that I can get her to smile at me for two ninety-five…" He shrugged.

"I don't believe you," Shirley snapped.

Jeff tensed up. Had she seen through his lie?

"You're a grown damn man and what you're describing is creepy as hell," she continued.

Jeff relaxed a bit. "I know. Hence my interest in not sharing it. But like a walking crowbar, you came in and pried the truth right out of me."

"I'd expect it from Pierce. You want that? You want me to compare you to Pierce?"

"No…"

"You're a perfectly fine man and there are plenty of people who would smile at you without money being involved. There are people who do!"

"Yes."

"If you don't…" Shirley broke off as she spotted Annie emerging from the classroom building, waving frantically. "We're not done here," she told Jeff as she opened the passenger door and exited his car. "Come on to class."

Jeff nodded and followed her up the short walk to the building entrance.

"Where you have you guys been?" Annie asked them as they passed through the glass entryway. "Pierce has been faking a heart attack to stall for time, and I don't think that's going to work a third time."

"I was running late." Jeff realized he'd left his textbook in his car, and debated whether he should go get it, or pretend to go get it and just drive away. He could try the day again from the top tomorrow. "Starbucks."

Annie rolled her eyes. "You can be really soulless and corporate, you know that? Shirley's Sandwiches is right here."

"That's what I told him," Shirley agreed as the three of them entered classroom. Chang and half the class were quietly sitting and playing with their phones, while the other half, including Troy and Britta, stood or squatted in a small crowd at the front of the room.

"…And then Monica tells Chandler that she doesn't like him when he's kissing up to his boss," Abed was saying. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the crowd. Pierce lay on his back before him, head in Abed's lap. "So when the boss comes back in and tells another stupid joke, Chandler doesn't fake-laugh. The boss doesn't like that, and starts to lean on Chandler, and then Monica breaks in and pretends to explain the joke and Chandler pretends he thinks it's funny."

"Ah, that makes sense," Pierce said. "Monica was the hot one, right?"

Abed shook his head. "No, that was Rachel. Monica was the neurotic overachiever who ended up with the irreverent joker."

"And hey, Pierce is talking again," said Chang.

Pierce sat up. "Vice-Chancellor Hawthorne," he said. "I've decided that's my job title. Vice-Chancellor."

"Why not full Chancellor?" Annie asked him.

"Whatever. Are we all ready to learn now?"

"I'm still pretty dizzy," said Pierce. "I think I need another episode of a sitcom summarized for me."

"Oh, do 'Homer at the Bat,'" suggested Troy. "That's my favorite. He does voices," he added to Britta.

"Actually I think we're all set," Jeff said. "Vice-Chancellor Hawthorne looks fine to me."

"This is no picnic for me either, you guys," Chang said as the class settled back into their seats and put down their phones. "Am I excited about being up this early? No. Am I qualified to teach this class? No. Do I even know what historiography is? No. Did I get a student to write my lesson plan for me? I did, yes, because unlike her, I have more important things to do."

"Hey!" cried Annie. Jeff glared at Chang.

"So show some respect, all right?" He cleared his throat. "I said show some respect!"

The students exchanged glances. "Yes, El Tigre Chino," they reluctantly chanted in ragged unison.

Pierce, sitting in the back of the class, chuckled. "Classic Chang."

"That concludes today's lesson," Chang said. "No. Hold on." He held up one finger. "I have an assignment for you that'll eat up some class time. You're going to work in pairs…"

Jeff and Annie exchanged meaningful glances. Britta tried to do the same with Troy, but he was already exchanging a meaningful glance with Abed, so she turned to Shirley instead.

"And put together a five-minute presentation," Chang continued. "Or, no, that's going to be hell to sit through. A three page paper. Wait. Maybe a diorama. Dioramas are easy to grade…" He trailed off, tapping his teeth with one finger thoughtfully. "Maybe just do an in-class exam, then you can grade one another's work…"

"Pick something!" called Pierce from the back, hands cupped in front of his mouth.

Chang scowled. "Fine! A paper, smart guy! Three pages. On, um, historiography, I guess."

Annie cleared her throat loudly. "Of?" she stage-whispered.

"Of, yeah, I know!" Chang snarled. "The historiography of, um, World War 2."

"'A particular battle from World War 2,'" Annie stage-whispered from the front row. "We practiced this!" she hissed.

"You're still helping him?" Jeff asked from next to her.

She grimaced, as though gearing up to defend her choice to continue helping a man who had tried to murder them and who was also a terrible, terrible teacher, in the name of improving the Greendale educational experience just a little bit. Then she saw that Jeff was smiling at her, and smiled back instead.

"A particular battle from World War II, yes, that's what I was trying to say. I'm the instructor here, not you!" Chang snapped at Annie. "You know what? I'm assigning the partners for this." The class erupted into irritated murmurs, to Chang's evident relish. "Winger, you're with…" He scanned the class. "Man, slim pickings. You, the slutty one by the window! What's your name?"

A dark-haired woman seated towards the back looked around, vainly hoping he meant someone else. "Me?" She pointed to herself warily. When Chang nodded impatiently, she winced. "Patricia Smelden. I don't really think that…"

"Don't care. Winger, you're with Patricia Snodden."

"Smelden, actually" she called.

"Don't care. You like that, Annie?" Chang had a manic gleam in his eye.

"No! I mean…" Annie gasped in indignation. "Why wouldn't I? I mean, why would I care?"

"'Ha ha,' he said sarcastically," Chang said. "You're with Leonard."

Leonard laughed in his seat. "How you like them apples?" he croaked.

"Now Ben, that doesn't really seem fair," Pierce began. "Annie deserves better. You can pair Leonard with Britta."

"All right, all right. Leonard with Britta. Winger with the slut…"

"That is really not cool!" cried Britta. Chang ignored her.

"Annie, you're with Shirley. Neil, you're with Abed. Vicky, you're with Garrett, you three whose names I haven't learned are with those three whose names I learned last year but forgot… and Troy, you're with… who haven't I picked yet?"

"Anyone but Todd, anyone but Todd," Troy whispered, his eyes screwed shut.

Todd was, however, the only student who raised a hand.

"The weird-looking guy! You're with Troy! Boom! Partners assigned! Chang out!" Chang whooped and shook his fist, then dashed out of the classroom.


	5. 4a02: Good Food Buymanship II

There were six Starbucks within a half-hour drive of the GCC campus, but the one that Jeff frequented was the one closest to his apartment. Shirley staked it out from across the street, at first from her parked car, and then, after she was asked to move her car or get a ticket, from the window of the nearby Ann Taylor. She wore sunglasses to conceal her identity, and a blue windbreaker. Every few minutes she scanned the Starbucks with binoculars, as though it might have undergone some change invisible to her unaided eye.

"Can I help you find anything?" one of the Ann Taylor clerks asked, for the fifth or sixth time.

Shirley ignored her, so Annie, who had reluctantly come along, stepped in. "We're still just browsing, thanks," Annie told her. She had declined the blue windbreaker, and taken off her sunglasses indoors.

"Uh huh." The clerk did not pretend very hard to believe her.

"Yup." Annie nodded. "Wow, look at this… belt," she said, fingering the closest item on sale.

"That's nice," said Shirley without taking her eyes off the Starbucks.

"It's been twenty minutes," Annie said once the clerk had moved away. "How long are we going to keep standing here? We don't exactly look like the kind of upwardly mobile, professional business woman who shops at Ann Taylor. Yes, we're always on the lookout for great deals, and yes, Ann Taylor does combine chic high fashion with the kind of quality manufacture that's hard to find for such reasonable prices, but come on. We're community college students."

"First of all," said Shirley, "Ann Taylor's new line for this autumn is based around a peach shade that, even with our dramatically different complexions, we both look great in. Secondly, the financing options provided by the Ann Taylor Mastercard bring even the finest garments into any woman's price range."

Annie nodded, conceding the points.

"Thirdly, Jeff Winger is going to appear at any moment, mark my words, and then we'll see just what the man's problem is. Crazy lactose-intolerant fool."

"I'm sure he was telling you the truth. When we left campus," Annie muttered, "you said Jeff needed some help and did I want to lend a hand."

"He needs help wising up!" Shirley scanned the Starbucks again.

"Maybe he just enjoys Starbucks's seasonal offerings, like the delicious Pumpkin Spice latte. When I want a treat that reminds me it's autumn, I reach for a Pumpkin Spice latte, perhaps with a jack-o-lantern-shaped sugar cookie."

Shirley lowered her binoculars to glare at Annie. "Shirley's Sandwiches sells cookies too, you know."

"Yes but… oh! There he is!" Annie pointed through the window.

"Be cool!" Shirley squinted at Jeff through the binoculars. Across the street, he opened the door for the woman he'd been paired with in Historiography class. "He's got that trashy girl with him!"

"Patricia. You know, the only evidence anyone has that she's trashy is Chang's word." Annie peered through the window, shading her eyes from the glare with one hand. "Although she did just touch Jeff's arm for no reason."

"They're ordering," Shirley announced. "Paying separately…"

"Good," Annie muttered to herself.

"What?" Shirley asked her.

"What?" Annie repeated, and looked confused, until Shirley turned back to the window.

A moment later, she lowered her binoculars again. "I don't believe it. That man is a liar!" She took a step towards the Ann Taylor door, intent on confronting him, but Annie held her back.

"What? Jeff's just getting coffee. He isn't even complimenting that woman's sweater or smiling at her." Annie squinted over Shirley's shoulder, at the Starbucks. "I don't think he is."

"It's not her I'm talking about, it's him!" Shirley jabbed a finger towards the window. "The old man!"

Annie sighed. "Okay, I know Jeff is like twelve or fourteen years older than, um, Troy and Abed and me, on average, about… but he's not…"

Shirley grunted in frustration, and pushed past Annie, shaking her head and cursing. She stomped across the street, heedless of traffic, and into the Starbucks. "Jeff Winger!" she roared.

Jeff and the woman — Patricia — turned in surprise. They stood a few feet apart at the pickup station, waiting for their drinks.

"Red hair? Chesty? Green apron?" Shirley pointed to the lone employee manning the store, a balding man in his late 50s or 60s.

"Yeah, one minute." Jeff already had his phone out. Instead of answering Shirley, he began quickly texting someone.

"Oh, don't make like you have someone to text," Shirley bellowed. "You don't have anyone to text!" She stomped up to Jeff and pulled the phone out of his hand. "'Starburns on Henderson, Shirley going crazy, please send a rescue dog,'" she read.

"Starburns is an Autocorrect error," Jeff said.

"Patty!" cried the man behind the counter, holding a cup.

Anxious smile fixed in place, Patricia took the cup from him without looking away from Shirley. "I really need to get going," she said to Jeff. "We can talk about the paper later. Or, hey, I could just do the whole thing myself how about? That sounds easiest for everybody. You and your girlfriend can work out this, whatever." She fled out the Starbucks entrance, nearly colliding with Annie, who was entering.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Jeff called out.

Annie turned and glanced at the escaping Patricia. "I know she's not your girlfriend," she said to Jeff. "I was there this morning when you met. Even if you did want to sleep with her, which would be none of my business…"

"Not her!" Shirley interrupted. "This is about him!" She pointed at the man behind the counter. "You said that you came to this Starbucks because of a red-haired barista named Mandy —" She ignored Annie's squeak of indignation, matched to Jeff's pained expression. "And now I see it's this geezer!"

"There's no need to be hateful," said the Starbucks worker. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, if you can't be a little quieter."

"Can it, no-hair!" Shirley snapped. She grabbed at a display of seasonal flavored coffees, pulling it down and spilling Starbucks-branded single-serving coffee packets across the floor.

* * *

Meanwhile, back on campus, Troy and Todd met in the study room to work on their paper. Todd sank into the seat nearest Troy, who glared at him.

"You're in Abed's seat," Troy told him. "You should sit over there, between Jeff and Annie." He pointed to a chair on the opposite end of the table. "Nobody sits there, for obvious reasons."

"I don't…" Todd looked around. "There's no one else here. Can't I sit anywhere?"

"You only ever think about yourself, huh Todd?"

Blistered by Troy's glare, Todd stood and walked around the table, sitting the seat between Jeff's and Annie's usual chairs. "Man, this takes me back," he said. "Heh, remember last year, and Biology class, and…?"

"Yeah, I had to retake Biology class because of you, Todd." Troy scowled, then softened slightly. "Well, actually I didn't. I signed up to, but then the AC Repair Annex guys got me a bye. But if I wasn't their messiah, I'd have had to have re-learned all that stuff about photosynthesis and homeostasis and amniocentesis and riboflavin facts."

"I don't remember riboflavin…" began Todd.

"You might know it as Vitamin B2," snapped Troy. "You see? That's just the kind of thing I almost had to relearn because of you, but not really."

"Listen, Troy, I just want to get through this paper," Todd said. He dug through his backpack. "I barely know what historiography is, so… that's probably going to become a problem at some point during the course. I need to get a good grade on this, so I can pass the class and graduate on time."

"There you go again! Lording your on-time graduation plan, like you can't believe anyone else is smart enough to graduate in five years like a normal person!"

"Four years, you mean?" Todd slid his historiography textbook onto the study room table between them.

"We can't all skip years like you, Todd!" Troy slammed his own textbook onto the table. "Let's just get this over with."

"Okay, so, uh…" Todd drummed his fingers. "So our topic is, 'the Historiography of the Battle of the Midway,' and we need a thousand words, so…" He broke off with a start, when Britta stormed into the room.

"All right, Todd, get out," she told him without preamble. "We're switching partners."

"Oh, thank God you're here," Troy told her. "You would not believe how he's been driving me crazy. It's all riboflavin this and historiography that with this guy."

"I don't think we're allowed to switch partners," Todd protested. "Professor Chang seemed really intent on assigning us."

Britta scoffed. "He's Chang; he's probably distracted chasing a soap bubble by now and forgotten all about it. You're with Leonard." She tilted her head behind her, then turned and called through the open doorway. "Leonard!"

"Keep your damn pants on," Leonard grumbled as he shuffled into the study room. "Nobody but your idiot boyfriend here wants to see that." He snickered at his own wit.

"Oh, shut up Leonard. Greendale is hell, I'm the devil, and you've been dead for thirty years!" Britta cried.

"Whoa, seriously?" Troy asked her. "I knew it! Well, I suspected."

"You're horrible people and you deserve each other!" Todd folded his arms. "But I'm not switching partners. I don't want to get in trouble. It wouldn't be right."

"Live a little, boy-o," Leonard told him.

"What if Britta did your half of the paper with Leonard, would you swap with her then?" Troy asked.

"So I'd just be signing my name to her work?" Todd considered. "It's hard to see a moral objection to that…"

"I object on moral grounds," Britta said. "I don't want to do two papers!"

"Okay, okay, we'll both do them both together. Easy as pie." Troy grinned. "It's gotta be like, making two pies is almost as easy as making one pie, you just do all the steps twice."

"Sounds good to me," said Leonard. "You just make sure it has my name on it." He chuckled to himself and left.

"Then we're all agreed, Britta will do two papers."

Britta frowned.

"I'll help." Troy clapped his hands together. "We'd better get to work, partner."

Todd rose from his seat and backed, slowly and carefully, out through the study room door. He nearly collided with Abed, who stomped into the room, Neil on his heels.

"Troy!" Abed barked. "Tell Neil that Third Edition, three point five, is the best version of Dungeons & Dragons." He spun around to address Neil. "It is the best edition."

"It's got a lot of great supplements, sure," Neil agreed. He sounded like a man going out of his way to be reasonable. "I'm not saying it doesn't. I just think that the fourth edition's more coherent design works a lot better than people give it credit for."

"Fourth edition," Abed repeated. "Fourth edition is just a video game on paper. Sure, the combat system is streamlined and yes, different character types are closer together in their power levels, but where's the soul? Fourth edition doesn't even have a Profession (Fisherman) skill!"

"Why do you need to know how good your barbarian is at net-fishing? Why does that need to be mathematically modeled?"

"It's like jazz," Abed said. "If you have to ask, you'll never know. Fourth edition characters don't even roll for hit points; the game's dumbed down to an insulting level. Plus they're all like Wolverine: cut their arms and legs off, slice up their livers, whatever, as long as they get a good night's sleep they're totally fresh and ready to go in the morning."

"Oh, come on!" Neil raised his voice. "Characters in 3.5 are the exact same way, it just takes a week or so of bedrest for them to recover from their crippling injuries. If you want an injury model that's even remotely realistic you have to go back to first edition, which nobody does…"

"Because first edition is an unplayable mess," Abed and Neil said in unison. Britta shot Troy a questioning look; he shook his head, indicating he was as baffled as she was.

"But that doesn't make fourth edition better," Abed continued. "Tell him, Troy."

Troy blinked. "Sorry, buddy, what are we talking about? Dungeons and Dragons? I don't... Do you…?" He turned to Britta, who shrugged. "I can't really help you, buddy. Neil sounds like he makes good points, but that might just be because of his melodious voice."

Neil looked pleased, but Abed looked pained. "Britta! Try to look past your ill-conceived ideas as to what constitutes fun. Don't you think that third edition, or three point five, is objectively better than fourth?"

"No, because like all women, I have no opinions whatsoever about Dungeons and Dragons," Britta snapped.

"Sexist!" Neil sounded appalled. "Sexist and demonstrably untrue! My girlfriend plays D&D. And she likes it!"

Britta reached out and covered Neil's hand with her own. "I don't know your girlfriend, but I'm positive that's not true."

Neil drew back. "You've known Vicky since freshman year!" He shook his head. "You guys."

Troy shrugged. "Hey, Abed's our friend. And being Abed's friend means supporting him wholeheartedly, no matter what his plans are, or how crazy they sound."

"Sorry Neil," said Abed. He didn't sound particularly sorry. "Obviously I win the argument three votes to one. You can go now. Troy and I will do our paper."

"What?" Britta shook her head no.

"Britta and Troy and I will do our paper," Abed said.

"I…" Neil squinted at Abed. "What?"

"That's what we were arguing over, wasn't it?"

"Was it?"

Abed arched an eyebrow. "Wasn't it, though? Deep down?"\

"…No?"

Britta cleared her throat. "I think you and Neil should do your own paper," she said. "Troy and I are already doing two."

"Hey, now!" Troy arched an eyebrow. "What did I just say? We always support Abed."

"Okay then," Neil said. He turned and fled, before anyone could stop him.

"Well, that's great," Britta said with a sigh.

Abed shrugged. "Great that he's leaving? Maybe. I like Neil. He could have been an interesting addition to our dynamic, except for his wrong opinions about Dungeons and Dragons."

"You could run after him," Britta suggested. "Ooh!" Her eyes widened and she bolted upright in her chair. "You could get a boombox and hold it over your head outside his apartment! Yes! Go, Abed, go in the name of love!" She elbowed Troy.

"I like it?" offered Troy.

"Enh." Abed shook his head. "I can really only get away with referencing _Say Anything_ once. I don't want to waste it. What if I run through the rain to Neil's apartment, and I hold the boombox up, and we reconcile, and then I meet Brie Larson or Mary Elizabeth Winstead or Anna Kendrick or Aubrey Plaza?"

"Then you could reference _Scott Pilgrim_! See?" Britta turned to Troy. "Just because I don't get _Inspector Spacetime_ … "

"You could reference _Scott Pilgrim_ or not, it's your call," Troy assured Abed. "The important thing is we support you either way, buddy. Always."

"Well, not always, right?" Britta laughed. "I mean, there are some situations where we wouldn't support Abed. Like, if you went crazy or something," Britta said. She gestured vaguely at her chin. "Evil beard."

"Ignore her. We'll always support you. _Always_ ," Troy repeated.

"She just wants me to leave so you can make out." Abed rose to his feet. "I'm not going to go after Neil, but as a favor to Britta, I am going to go home and watch _Scott Pilgrim_ while eating buttered noodles."

"Thanks, buddy! You see?" Troy turned to Britta. "Everybody wins."

"Did you just say 'ignore her?'" Britta asked Troy as Abed left.

He shifted in his seat. "I don't know, a lot of people were saying stuff… on the bright side, we got rid of everybody."

"We just have to do three papers. Yours, mine, and Abed's." Britta slouched in her seat. "Is this going to be recurring theme in our relationship?"

"Maybe," Troy admitted. He rubbed the back of his neck guiltily.

"I don't wanna do three papers," Britta whined. "I don't wanna do one paper. Why do we have to be the grownups? Can't we just go make out and maybe, you know, smoke stuff?"

"Hams? You want to smoke some hams?" Troy leaned in, interested.


	6. 4a02: Good Food Buymanship III

A/N: To repair a continuity error with a later chapter, one line of this installment has been altered from what was originally published. See if you can guess which one!

* * *

Annie had to get to another class, so Jeff was alone when he picked Shirley up from the police station. "Banned for life from Starbucks. As your attorney I have to say we got a pretty good deal, no assault charges."

"Oh, that's nice. I wasn't sure I'd be able to explain that to Andre," Shirley said as she walked with him out to his car.

Jeff nodded. "But that lifetime ban has got to sting. You won't be able to enjoy seasonal lattes like the eggnog and peppermint mocha at Christmastime. And the superior in-store wireless network, free to all Starbucks customers, is likewise closed to you."

"I don't blame Starbucks," Shirley said. "Much like the excellent people at Ann Taylor, the employees at Starbucks were only doing their job when they called the cops on me. People should feel safe when they're drinking their cappucinos and such." She frowned. "I'm going to be getting home late, though. Can you give me a ride back to my house?"

"Sure," Jeff said as he unlocked his car. "You want me to cover for you with Andre?"

Shirley scoffed. "Of course not. We don't lie to one another."

Jeff got into his car. "Didn't he cheat on you with a stripper?"

"Yes, but when I asked him about it, he told me the truth." Shirley climbed into the passenger seat.

They sat in silence while Jeff pulled out of the lot.

"Coming back from that was hard," Shirley said, after a few moments. "We've been doing couples counseling, I think just because he wants to show me he's trying. Honesty isn't the only thing, but it's the first thing."

"Okay, okay." Jeff scowled behind the wheel. "I'm sorry I lied to you about why I was going to the Starbucks."

Shirley grunted.

"And you're probably wondering why I wasn't seducing the woman from Chang's class," he continued.

She gave him a sidelong glance. "Not really. I thought that one was pretty obvious."

"She was not out of my league!" Jeff said. "You've seen some of the women I've slept with, they…" He trailed off. He knew that hadn't been what she meant, but that wasn't a conversation he felt up for. "Whatever. I hope you and Andre work it out."

Shirley smiled to herself. "Not every relationship fails. If you keep working at it…"

"Maybe." Jeff drove in silence for a few more seconds. "Are your parents still together?" he asked her, suddenly curious.

Shirley shook her head. "My daddy went to Jesus… oh, six years ago now. He got to see Elijah, and Jordan, though. I wish Benjamin could have met him."

"Yeah. My parents divorced. Annie's parents divorced," Jeff said, as though to himself. "So did Abed's," he added. "Pierce has been married six times, and Britta's not exactly…" He trailed off. "Being a good person means trying to make the people around you happy, right? Making the choices that are best for them."

"Maybe." Shirley's tone was cautious, as though she wasn't sure how far she should go with Jeff down this particular road.

There was another companionable silence, one that lasted until Jeff pulled up in front of Shirley's house.

"Mom's in the hospital," Jeff said as he came to a stop.

Shirley gasped. "Jeffrey!"

"Some kind of cardiac thing. I can't get a straight answer out of anyone, but it's not looking great." Jeff stared forward. "I've been going to Starbucks instead of Shirley's Sandwiches because when the barista at Starbucks asks me how it's going, and I say I'm fine, they believe me."

"Jeffrey…"

"I was at your shop the other day, and I could smell the coffee and the bacon you were frying, and it made me think of when I was six years old, and she… If you asked me how I was doing, right then, I'd have…" His voice cracked, and he let out a ragged sigh. "I start talking about that to a friend, to someone who I love, I guess, and especially if you've just made me a sandwich or you're talking about your kids…" He had his hands up around his eyes now. He might have been crying, Shirley couldn't tell. "I know, it's a stupid reason to be avoiding your store. I mostly try not to think about it. Think about scotch and law and… redheads, instead."

"We all care about you, Jeffrey. You're surrounded by people you can talk to about this; you don't have to bottle it all up inside." Shirley glanced at her house. Someone, undoubtedly Andre, was standing behind the picture window in the darkened living room, looking out at Jeff's car and wondering why it was idling there. "You should come in for dinner," she told Jeff. "It's no trouble."

He hesitated, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. She added "Annie's coming over after, to work on our paper," which she knew was a gamble. It paid off, though; he killed the car's engine and went inside with her.

* * *

Roughly thirty feet directly below the study room, Britta and Troy lay in the semidarkness and enjoyed the sensations of water and motion and bubbles. Eventually, though, Britta sat up and flicked a light on. "What time is it?"

Troy looked around for a clock, didn't see one. "Time to get some dinner?"

Britta searched through the pile of her clothes and found her phone. "Jeez! It's almost ten. Did we fall asleep?" She examined her hands, trying to judge how pruney they were.

"I don't think so." Troy gripped her by the shoulder and tried to pull her back down into the water, but she slipped away with a giggle.

"We have got to get going," she urged him, climbing up onto the dry tile floor.

He laughed. "All right, all right."

"Well, that was… wow." Britta fumbled to get her top back on. "I should complain about you telling Abed to ignore me more, I guess…" She looked around the small white room. Dominated by the whirlpool tub, it was clean and white and looked like it belonged in a luxury spa. The air was fresh and well-circulated. "I didn't know this building had a sub-basement. And I definitely didn't know that the sub-basement had a jacuzzi pool."

Troy smiled as he ran his hand along her back. "You know this campus has eight jacuzzi pools? All in the custodial and ventilation areas. Vice-Dean Layborne was a big fan of them, and the tile & grouting guys are part of the AC Repair Annex, just like the plumbers. I'm trying to decide whether to convert them all to planters or something, or just tell the dean about them. Right now Hot Tubs 305 is just Professor Lindstrom lecturing students about his vacations in Sicily."

"I was wait-listed for that class," Britta mused. "So we definitely get some food, and then…" She clapped her hand to her forehead, remembering. "We have to write three papers! Do you think Chang would notice if two of them were photocopies?"

"Not a problem," Troy assured her as he pulled on his pants. "You forget, I am the Truest Repairman."

"So?"

Instead of answering her, Troy opened a metal cabinet set into the wall. It appeared to be empty. He closed it again, then banged his fist twice against the door. After a moment, an answering _bang bang_ echoed from somewhere nearby in the sub-basement. Grinning, Troy opened the cabinet. "Ta-da!" he sang, pointing at the stack of stapled packets that had appeared within.

"Is that…?" Britta stared at Troy, somewhat in awe.

"Three historiography papers. Don't ask me what they're about or what they are, even, I just know they're here." He picked one up. "See? Even got the right names on them."

Wide-eyed, Britta took one of the papers. "You got the AC guys to do this?"

"I know what you're going to say: it's taking advantage of the system, and it's cheating, and stuff," Troy admitted.

"I wasn't going to say any of that," said Britta. "I'm all for honesty and junk, but this is for Chang's made-up class about a made-up thing."

"Exactly my thinking," Troy said. He leaned over and kissed Britta on the back of her neck.

She sighed happily. "Mmmm…"

He pulled away . "Now let's get back to the apartment and check on Abed." Troy was already halfway out the door by the time Britta realized he was no longer kissing her. "If we run out of Starbucks Frappucino chilled coffee drinks, now available in convenient twelve-packs, Abed throws a fit."

* * *

Dinner was the home-cookingiest meal Jeff had eaten in a long time: meatloaf, with mashed potatoes, garden salad, and a slice of pumpkin pie for dessert. Andre accepted that Shirley had invited him over last-minute with good humor. After dinner, while he did the dishes in the kitchen, he offered Jeff a beer.

"I'm good, thanks," Jeff said. "So how's the stereo game going?"

"Not great," Andre said frankly. "People just aren't buying hi-fis the way they used to when we were kids. We actually closed down a couple months ago. It wasn't worth trying to keep it afloat."

"Really?" Jeff asked, nonplussed by Andre's tone. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Andre shrugged. "It's fine. We had a good run. I was pretty upset about it six months ago — things were looking pretty bleak for a while there, before Shirley's Sandwiches. But as it is, I'm splitting my time between child care and the sandwich shop."

"I didn't realize you worked at the lunch counter — man, I'm out of the loop."

"Heh. I'm only over there a couple of afternoons a week. It's Shirley's passion, and I've got to support her. We're a team." Noticing Jeff's pensive look, Andre continued. "When you're with the right partner you can do anything. Woman like that is worth fighting for."

"Yeah." Jeff nodded distantly. "I don't know how you manage three kids," he said, changing the subject.

"Well, like I just said," Andre replied. "It's a team effort. Everything is. Somebody's got to be here while Shirley is making dioramas or winning dance contests or all the weird-ass Greendale nonsense you guys get into. Otherwise the government comes in and takes your kids away, or so I'm told."

Jeff chuckled politely. "Still and all," he said, "I can't imagine pulling it off the way you two do."

Andre raised an eyebrow. "No? Well, maybe you haven't met the right woman. Though I hear that isn't an issue."

Jeff blinked in surprise. What had Shirley been telling him? He was spared having to formulate a response, however, when the doorbell rang."

Shirley's voice wafted in from the dining room. "That'll be Annie — someone get the door, please?"

"Speaking of," Andre said wryly. "I've got my hands full with these dishes. Would you mind?"

Jeff smiled a fixed smile — clearly Shirley had indeed been telling Andre tales out of school — but went to answer the door.

It was, as predicted, Annie. She smiled when she saw Jeff, but then, she had already been smiling. "Hey, you," she said, stepping close for a brief hug before Jeff could react. "Shirley said you got her out of jail, all lawyer-style."

"Well, I'm a pretty bad lawyer, so I asked to be paid in meatloaf," he responded, beckoning her into the house. He realized he'd grinned like an idiot when she smiled at him, and with some effort returned his face to a neutral expression.

"Hello Annie!" Shirley called from the dining room. "I'm all set up in here."

"Be with you in a minute!" Annie called back, then she turned to Jeff. "I never got a chance to ask, what was up with you going to the Starbucks? I feel like I'm missing out, not knowing."

"It's a long story," Jeff said cautiously. Seeing her eyes narrow, he found himself explaining. "My mother's in the hospital, and I make weird choices."

"Oh! Is it serious?" Annie asked, her mouth an O of concern. Absently she stroked Jeff's bicep. "Would she appreciate visitors?"

"It's probably nothing. I don't mean to be mysterious. She had a mild heart attack, apparently. More a scare than anything, but they're keeping her in observation for as long as her insurance will allow, and she's got good insurance, so…"

Annie nodded slowly. "Is that a yes or no on visitors? Where is she? Saint Luke's? Or is she at one of the medical centers? She should avoid Martindale, their cardiology department is rated below the Denver metro area average. I'm a hospital administration major, remember?"

Jeff had a sudden vision. Annie hauling armloads of balloons and flowers into his mother's hospital room. Jeff's mother lighting up when she discovered that she'd finally met the elusive Annie Edison Jeff had made the mistake of telling her about. Annie discovering that she was the only one of Jeff's friends whose name his mother knew. Annie berating him about that. Jeff's mother and Annie teaming up to berate him with twice the efficiency and potency. Jeff's mother asking Annie inappropriate questions about grandchildren and otherwise meddling in his life. Annie angered or hurt by the tone of her questions. "She's really not much for visitors," he said.

"Hmm." Annie had a gleam in her eye that Jeff recognized — it was her I know what Jeff should be doing gleam. "When did you see her last?"

"The day before yesterday," he said wearily, because he knew there was no escaping it.

"And when is she going home? Do you know?"

"Friday, probably."

"So you're going to go see her tomorrow."

"Annie —"

"You're going to go see her tomorrow, Jeff," Annie repeated.

"I am, yeah," he agreed, because it was the path of least resistance.

She looked at him a moment, eyes narrowed. "Well, good." Then her expression softened and he was grinning again and it occurred to him, not for the first time that day, how pleasant it would be if he were kissing Annie Edison.

Then, because he knew she was about to offer to accompany him, and if she did he wasn't going to be able to make himself say no, he took a step backwards and tilted his head towards the dining room. "You should…"

Annie blinked, as though she'd forgotten she came to Shirley's house for a reason other than to check up on Jeff. "Oh, right."

On cue, Shirley called from the dining room. "What are you two doing over there?"

"Nothing!" Jeff and Annie said in unison.

* * *

A week later Chang handed back the papers. "You all did awful. I blame myself for thinking that any of you were capable of learning. You embarrassed me in front of someone I care about: myself. Britta, Leonard, Neil, Abed, Troy, and you with the hair." Chang pointed at Todd. "I'm going to need you to redo the assignment and this time, actually complete it. Don't just copy and paste from Wikipedia. At the very least, delete _courtesy Wikipedia the encyclopedia anyone can edit_ from the bottom of each page. If you're going to cheat, people," he continued, raising his voice to address the entire class, "use a little tact. Think about what you're doing! I don't want to know you're cheating. You need to… what? _Conceal_. Conceal the cheating from me. Let me hear a 'yes, el Tigre Chino.'"

"Yes, el Tigre Chino," the class chanted in ragged and halfhearted unison, as Changed wave his arms like a conductor.

"All right then. The rest of you did a marginally better job at hiding your contempt for me, so you all get As. And, uh, you other people, you redo the assignment and you get Cs." Chang looked confused for a moment. "Wait, crap. I lost my train of thought. Who's in which group?"

"Nobody tell him!" called out Troy. "I don't want to have to learn anything!"

In the back of the class Patricia Smelden apologized to Jeff. "I know I hardly did any of it. I hate to have stuck you with all the work."

"It was no problem, actually. I ended up doing it with some friends," he said.

She nodded. "Your stalker girlfriend from the Starbucks?"

Jeff blinked in confusion. "She wasn't stalking, I texted… oh, Shirley," he said, as understanding dawned. He chuckled. "Shirley is, uh, not my girlfriend. She's married."

"Well, that doesn't necessarily mean anything." Patricia winked at him. "But it is good to know. I thought maybe I could make it up to you, somehow…"

"Heh heh." Jeff tried to remember being a guy who'd go for that. He cast about for a distraction. Turning away from Patricia, he glanced at Troy, trying to convince Britta to join him and Abed in a hot tub.

"Dreamatorium hot tub," Jeff interjected, turning away from Patricia Smelden. "That sounds extra sad."

"It's not in the Dreamatorium!" Troy protested. "We took the Dreamatorium down. It's — ow!"

"Britta just stomped on Troy's foot," Abed announced. He winced. "And just now she stomped on mine."

Jeff shook his head. "Never mind."


	7. 4a03: Perspectives on the Renaissance I

A/N: Special thanks to Amrywiol for beta-reading this chapter and offering several extremely helpful insights!

* * *

Come, ye lords and ladies, fair visitors to this our lovely faire! Huzzah! Watch and listen to our play, as we poor players strut across the stage for your amusement.

Huzzah!

Once upon a time there were two princesses, two princes, a Flemish crossdresser, a starship captain, and an attorney who was far too cool to dress up in a silly costume. They were all the best of friends! Well, the two princes were the very very best of friends. One of the princes was sleeping with the Flemish crossdresser, and one of the princesses and the attorney were constantly making eyes at one another, even though the attorney and the Flemish crossdresser had once carried on a furtive and ultimately unsatisfying affair. Also the princess who made eyes at the attorney occasionally sparked a bit off the prince who wasn't sleeping with the Flemish crossdresser. Theirs was was a complex network of relationships which, as you may have already noticed, excluded the second princess and the starship captain.

Even if you hadn't, the second princess and the starship captain _definitely_ noticed. Though they worked actively to engage with the social lives of the first princess, the two princes, the Flemish crossdresser, and the attorney, the second princess and the starship captain often found themselves pushed to the edges of whatever quiet melodrama was playing out among the others. In hopes, perhaps, of establishing themselves as possessing identities beyond merely the colorful friends of the first princess and the attorney and the rest, the second princess and the starship captain went into business together, with the starship captain funding the second princess's longtime dream of operating a bakery and lunch counter.

As a business, the lunch counter was marginally successful. As an attempt to anchor the second princess and the starship captain more fully within a narrative that was sometimes threatened with being completely overwhelmed by the romantic tensions between the attorney and the first princess (and to a lesser extent the two princes and the Flemish crossdresser), the lunch counter was likewise marginally successful. Certainly it gave the second princess and the starship captain plenty to argue about!

* * *

"Pierce, you're being ridiculous!"

"I'm being ridiculous? Me?" Pierce glared at Shirley, and thrust his thumb towards his chest. "I'm the one being ridiculous?"

"That's what I just said, fool." Shirley scowled back at him, giving him the side-eye despite being over a foot shorter than the older man. "You're picking a fight you're not gonna win." She shook her head. "Also, quit staring at my chest."

Pierce smiled a tight and mirthless smile. "Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but you're wearing a bodice. You've got your, your ladies right on display."

Shirley's jaw dropped. "This is an authentic costume!" Technically this was an exaggeration; the skirt and blouse were both from her church's donation bin. But they looked close enough, and she'd sewed the bodice and hat herself using a pattern she'd had to buy from an absurdly expensive website where a bony white lady sold handmade Renaissance Faire garb.

Pierce, of course, was in jeans. "Well, it's not my fault women in the Middle Ages all dressed like streetwalkers, is it? Also, if you're going to be authentic to the period, should you even be wearing that, and not…"

"Oh, no!" Shirley bridled. "I'm gonna cut you off right there, because I don't want to have to cut something off you. You are speaking from a place of ignorance! I usually ignore your damn hate-crime-talk, but today I don't have the patience. Don't test me! Don't you test me!"

He slowed down long enough for her to get a bit of lead on him. "I'm testing you? Me? I'm the one testing you?"

The two of them had car-pooled to the Faire for reasons that escaped Shirley at the moment. On the trip over Pierce had been civil, at least, until she'd told him that no, she wasn't going to make vegan peanut butter cookies with cocoanut oil. Vegan peanut butter cookies with cocoanut oil sounded terrible. Vegan peanut butter cookies with cocoanut oil would tarnish the Shirley's Sandwiches brand. Since their opening over a month ago now, Shirley's Sandwiches had become known for two things — delicious sandwiches, and delicious cookies. Not delicious sandwiches and terrible hippie-granola cookies, she'd explained to her "silent" partner.

Shirley spotted Jeff with Annie up ahead, at the edge of a large roped-off area. She made a face: like Pierce, Jeff was apparently too cool to costume up for the Faire, and wore a blue button-down with chinos. "Jeffrey!" she called as she approached. "I need you to lawyer for me!"

Jeff had been leaning against a post and making fun of the knights setting up for the rapier fencing. "Far be it from me to question their commitment to historical accuracy, but did they have plastic face shields and safety caps in the fourteenth century?"

Annie smiled. "Be nice. It's an actual sport, you know." She wore a gown with elaborate gold embroidery, and a bemused expression.

"Yeah, yeah, but this isn't sport fencing, this is…" Jeff gestured dismissively towards the enthusiasts. "I don't know what this is. What do you call these guys? You don't call them fencers."

Annie rolled her eyes. "Hobbyists, enthusiasts, Scadians…"

"Scadians?"

"The Society for Creative Anachronism, founded 1966. Have you never been to a renfair before?" she asked Jeff.

He shook his head. "I was busy not hand-sewing imitation tabards and making swords out of broomhandles."

She sighed. "They don't…"

"There." Jeff pointed. "See that? Over on the haybale. That is a broomhandle."

"Well, I'm sure it's just for practicing." Annie peered at the distant object. "I used to go to the Faire every year when I was a kid. My parents would take me, or my Aunt Lelia. I thought the knights were so…"

Jeff shot her a suspicious glance as she took a deep breath and trailed off, a slight smile playing across her face.

"Jeffrey!" Shirley called again.

He cleared his throat. "She's using the angry voice," Jeff observed to Annie. "You know what that means. Three… two…"

"Jeffrey! I need you to lawyer for me first!" cried Pierce from behind Shirley.

"Yeah, yeah, calm down before everybody wants some," Jeff said, making a 'quiet down' gesture. "What new argument have you discovered? Or is it one of the old ones over again?"

Annie elbowed him.

"Okay, yes, thank you," Jeff told her. He cleared his throat. "Before I say anything else, for the record, we all understand that I am not technically a lawyer until the bar association reinstates me, which hopefully they'll do in eight months, so I'm not about to break any rules now. We all agree, therefore, that this conversation does not constitute legal advice? I mean, you both just now used 'lawyer' as a verb, so clearly you're experts in what constitutes legal advice, et cetera. Agreed?"

Pierce and Shirley both nodded.

"Okay, that being said, what I-can't-believe-it's-not-legal-advice can I give you?"

They both started speaking at once, then broke off. "After you, buxom wench," Pierce said in a condescending tone.

"Pierce is trying to tell me how to run my shop," Shirley said flatly. "He can't do that."

Jeff nodded. "Pierce, she's right. Knock it off. Issue resolved."

"What?" Pierce grumbled. "It's a little more complicated than…"

"It's not, actually. Your contract is very specific on this exact point. You're a silent partner and you waived any right to advice Shirley on any and all aspects of the business."

"I don't… are you sure that's what the contract says?" Pierce squinted. "I don't think I would have agreed to that."

Jeff folded his arms. "I wrote the contract. Then I read it out loud and explained it to both of you. Then you both signed it."

"Still, I…" Pierce shrugged. "Surely I'm not… I mean, who's expected to understand all that legal mumbo-jumbo?"

"Trust me, Pierce, don't claim to be incompetent to understand a contract," Jeff told him. "You do not want to go down the road. Unless you'd like the court to assign you a legal guardian for your own good, and freeze all your bank accounts?"

"I guess not." Pierce scowled and kicked at the ground, Charlie Brown style. "I just wanted the cookies."

"What's he talking about?" Annie asked Shirley.

Shirley shook her head in disgust. "Horrible-ass vegan peanut butter cookies made with cocoanut oil, I swear…"

"I'm seeing this woman," Pierce began.

"Pierce," said Jeff.

"There's this stripper at the Russian Palace," Pierce said. "Bianca. She's vegan, and I thought if I brought her homemade cookies…"

"Oh, you sad man." Shirley clucked her tongue.

"Who's sad?" asked Britta, who had just walked up, alongside Troy and Abed. "Jeff or Pierce? Or, no, I've got it, you're both sad in different ways."

"Eugh," Jeff said. "What are you wearing?"

"I know, right?" said Troy with a heavy sigh. "She coulda been all sexy, but…" He and Abed appeared to have obtained their costumes from the boy's Halloween section of Wal-Mart, which no one commented on as it seemed only par for the course.

Britta spun around to show off her outfit, a drab and layered affair with a heavy apron and long sleeves; very conservative, especially next to Shirley. "It's a replica Flemish glassblowing costume! Intended for a man, obviously, but lots of women dressed like men in the Middle Ages."

"Seems about right," said Jeff.

"Annie Edison!" someone called from within the roped-off area.

Everyone, not just Annie, turned in the direction of the voice. "Annie Edison!" The source of the voice was a man in a wire-mesh fencing mask and a green tabard over some basic renfair garb. He waved as he approached. "I knew it was you!"

"You know people besides us?" Troy asked Annie accusingly.

Annie smiled and shook her head in confusion. "I'm sorry, you are…?"

"Oh, jeez, where are my manners, sorry." The man pulled the mask off, revealing a boyishly handsome face with a neatly-trimmed beard and eyeglasses. "Chuck Martindale? Debate club? I was the guy who skipped half the meetings and let the rest of you guys do the work?"

Annie looked perplexed for a moment, but then her face lit up. "From high school!" she cried, delighted. "I didn't recognize you! The beard. And the rapier." She looked him up and down. "Wow, so you're a knight now, huh?"

Chuck chuckled. "Well, you're one to talk, in that…"

Jeff, staring at this interloper, and cleared his throat loudly. "You gonna introduce us?"

Annie shot him a glance. "Chuck, this is my friend Jeff. And these are my friends Pierce and Shirley and Britta and Troy and Abed." She pointed at each in turn. "Oh, Troy went to high school with us."

Troy grinned. "I don't remember you even a little bit, Chuck." He extended his hand, but was elbowed out of the way by Jeff.

"Pleasure to meet you Chuck any friend of Annie's," he said. There was a smile on his face that might more accurately be called a snarl. Jeff grabbed Chuck's hand for a shake. He gritted his teeth as he tried to crush the other man's hand in his, a task that proved more difficult than Jeff had expected.

"Oh, um, hi." Chuck blinked a few times, clearly taken aback.

Annie smiled shyly. "I haven't seen you in years, Chuck. What have you been up to?"

"Well, fencing, obviously!" Chuck chuckled. "I do regular epee fencing at CU Denver, actually, not just the SCA stuff. Graduating in the spring. You? How's Harvard? It was Harvard, right?"

Annie's smile remained fixed in place. "Let's walk and talk."

"Uh, sure. Sure," said Chuck, with the genial air of a man who's just found a twenty-dollar bill lying on the ground.

"You can, um, show me some swords." Annie put her hand on Chuck's back and steered him along the rope fence, away from the group.

Jeff watched them go. Britta, Troy, Shirley, Abed, and Pierce watched Jeff watch them go. Britta exchanged glances with the others, then held up three fingers, two, one…

"I'm going to go check on a thing," Jeff said. "Back in a minute."

"Sure you are," said Britta, but Jeff had already dashed off in the direction Annie and Chuck had gone.

"Jeff is going to duel him for Annie's hand," predicted Abed. Everyone turned to look at him. "I bet," he added.

"Well, yeah," said Britta.

"That doesn't take a psychic," agreed Shirley.

Pierce nodded. "The sexual tension between Jeff and Chuck _was_ pretty unbelievable."

Shirley cleared her throat. "Well," she said brightly, "I think I'm going to go check out the crafts booths. Britta?"

"Hmm?" Britta had been adjusting the way her apron bunched under her armpits.

"Care to join me?" Shirley asked, as sweetly as was humanly possible.

Britta raised her eyebrows. "Join you looking at cornshuck dolls and clams painted to look like Lucille Ball? Ha, yeah," she said. "That's totally my kind of thing."

Shirley smiled at her, saying nothing, until realization dawned.

"Oh, you're serious?" Britta asked, disconcerted. "Is this one of those girly bonding things?"

Shirley continued to smile.

"It is, isn't it? It's a girly bonding thing." Britta sighed, then turned to Troy. She took both his hands in hers. "I have to go do a girly bonding thing."

"It's okay," Troy assured her solemnly. "I understand." He brightened. "Plus Abed and I are going to play King Arthur and Robin Hood!"

Britta nodded. "I saw that one coming."

"Ready to go, Britta?" Shirley asked, putting the accent on the second syllable of Britta's name.

As the two women retreated towards the crafts tents, Pierce rubbed his hands together. "So gentlemen," he said to Troy and Abed, "looks like it's just the three of us!"

Abed and Troy exchanged glances. "It's not that you're a terrible no-fun old person," Troy began.

"Ah!" Pierce raised a hand to cut Troy off. "Say no more! I know what you're going to ask, and yes, I do have a costume!"

"I wasn't going to ask that."

Pierce patted his satchel. "I just have to go change — I didn't want to wear it into the Faire, because… well, you'll see why. Give me two minutes!" He dashed off towards the men's privies by the entrance, before Troy or Abed could protest.

Three minutes later, Troy and Abed were still standing there. "I feel like we should have just walked away," Troy said. "We've had minutes. We could be over on the other side of the Faire by now."

"Ask yourself," Abed said, putting his hand on Troy's shoulder, "what would Robin Hood do?"

"Man, I don't know. It's a…" Troy trailed off as Pierce finally came back around the corner from the men's privies. He'd been prepared for a lot of things, but he hadn't expected Pierce to be wearing his Star Trek costume.

"Set phasers to adventure!" cried Pierce, grinning broadly as he approached Troy and Abed. "What do you think, huh? Huh?" He gestured excitedly to his outfit, as though Troy and Abed might not have noticed it.

Abed spoke first. "Pierce, you're dressed as a Starfleet captain circa the mid-23rd century. This is a Renaissance Fair ostensibly set in 1605, albeit with massive anachronisms."

"I know! Must be some kind of transporter malfunction!" Pierce chortled. He pulled a replica communicator from his belt and flipped it open. "Kirk to Enterprise. Kirk to Enterprise. Come in, Scotty! I've been transported to medieval times!" Pierce snapped the communicator shut with a flourish. "Boy, I sure hope there aren't any Klingons around!" He looked around with barely restrained glee, as though he expected applause for his daring and novel idea.

"We're doing a whole knights and wizards thing, man," Troy protested.

"I'm an unexpected fish out of water! That's entertaining," Pierce said with an authority more appropriate to citing Talmudic lore. "I'll have all kinds of confused reactions to, uh, turkey legs and boobs in bodices and stuff."

* * *

And so the starship captain cavorted before the two princes in a manner most jolly, demanding to participate in the princes' games as an equal. The two princes knew that the starship captain's antics would only lead to ruination, and yet their kindness of spirit was such that one prince convinced the other to allow the starship captain to play with them, on a trial basis. Would the princes' reticence prove to be unfounded? And what of the princess and the Flemish crossdresser's girly bonding? Not to mention the curious triangle of the attorney, the princess, and the knight! All these cliffhangers will be resolved after our intermission.

In the meantime, please consider tossing a little money in Ye Old Hat, and feel free to peruse our merchandise.

Huzzah!


	8. 4a03: Perspectives on the Renaissance II

Welcome back, ye lords and ladies! Marry, 'tis a fine day for a faire! Huzzah! Thank ye for coming out and supporting live folk art! Especially thanks to ye who donated during the intermission. Now gather ye round, good lords and ladies, and listen well to this, the second chapter of our story!

Once upon a time, a starship captain was lurching around like a fool. He annoyed all passersby, both casual renfair visitors and dedicated own-their-own-bodices rennies. He forced his way into group photos, he danced through crowds calling for Spock, he asked glassblowers and hobbyist weavers inane questions about their replicators. Through it all, his friends the two princes gritted their teeth and endured, politely asking the starship captain to tone it down and, on occasion, apologizing for him to the their fellow renfair-attendees.

Eventually the starship captain began to speculate, loudly and apropos of nothing, that he was probably on the holodeck. It was not until he began to bellow, loudly and repeatedly, for the computer to end the program, that the two princes finally snapped.

* * *

"Dammit Pierce! That doesn't even make sense!" cried Troy.

Abed wailed for a moment, which attracted at least as much attention as Pierce's carryings-on. Then he went slack and sat down cross-legged in the dirt. "You're dressed as a TOS-era Starfleet captain. The holodeck wasn't popularized until the TNG-era, decades later. Decades!" Abed practically spat the last word.

"Fellas, fellas, what's the big deal?" Pierce asked, still grinning.

"You're ruining costume time!" shouted Troy. "You come in, with your stupid Star Trek clothes and your stupid fake communicator and your stupid fake phaser…" He threw his plastic sword onto the grass petulantly. "That's not what we're doing, man!"

Pierce swallowed. "Well," he began, "I don't _have_ to have the phaser…"

"Get out of here! We don't want to play with you! You're ruining it!"

"I… fine." Pierce raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry."

As he slowly walked away, Troy turned to Abed, still sitting on the ground. Abed was rocking back and forth, his eyes screwed shut.

"It's okay, buddy," Troy told him. "He's gone."

Abed stopped rocking. "Good." He sprang to his feet. "Do we still have time to do the Sherwood Forest duel, or do you need to go have sex with your girlfriend?"

Troy blinked in confusion as Abed checked the time on his phone. "I'm not going anywhere, buddy, what are you…"

"The last four times we've done bits that lasted more than ninety minutes, you ended them prematurely citing a preexisting commitment with Britta. On two of the four occasions, Britta expressed surprise when you contacted her, indicating that no preexisting plans had in fact been made," Abed declared. "You just wanted to fool around with her. Pierce was keeping us from actually doing anything for over an hour, so, how much longer until you ditch me?"

"Buddy, I'm not going to ditch you!"

Abed nodded solemnly. "I know you think that, Troy, but you are, and it's okay. This is how it is. The hero," Abed pointed at Troy, "and his wacky friend," Abed pointed at himself, "are initially inseparable, but over time they grow apart as the boy meets girl, loses girl, gets girl. Eventually you're going to turn to me, and I'm going to look at you and put my hand on your shoulder and say 'go get her,' and you'll nod, and then you'll leave and I'll never see you again."

"I came back from AC Repair school for you!"

"For me and for Britta," corrected Abed. "If Britta had a wacky best friend of her own that I could hook up with that'd be one thing, but the only option there is Annie and frankly there's nothing there when I'm not pretending to be Jeff, plus he would run me over in his car."

"He wouldn't…"

"I've run the scenarios. But that's fine. I've accepted this."

Troy shook his head. "Just because it happens like that on television doesn't mean…"

"Not just television," Abed said. "Film, literature, opera. The only alternative to the two of us drifting apart is if we become lovers ourselves. I can't deny I've considered that, but I don't think it would work out in the long run as we both like women too much."

"Abed," Troy said desperately, "just because I'm seeing Britta doesn't mean anything has to change!"

"It does, though." Abed's tone was flat. "Everything changes. People graduate. People move. People die. People remarry and stop celebrating Christmas with you on December 7th, people stop loving people, people change. That's the way the world is. Thinking otherwise is childish. So we change with the world and we try to find places we can be comfortable. Right now, that's you and Britta."

"Right now?"

Abed shook his head. "It's a ticking bomb, but the sooner you try to make it work and then fail, the sooner you can work through it. You'll be happier in the long run. After you and Britta break up, you'll probably rededicate yourself to plumbing or air conditioning repair, and we'll spend more time together initially. Then you'll meet another girl, and we'll drift apart. I'll give a speech at your wedding. I've already written it." He shrugged. "People change, and that's really not my thing."

"Abed," Troy said carefully, "it kind of hurts me that you consider our friendship to be such a transient thing."

"I'm just being realistic. We already pushed Pierce away. Soon we'll turn on each other."

"Well, yeah," Troy admitted, "but only because that's what happened in history when King Arthur betrayed Robin Hood to the Nazgul."

* * *

At the fencing arena in the center of the Faire, Jeff, Annie, and Chuck had reached the knot of SCA fencers who were setting up for an afternoon of informal competition. Somehow along the way Jeff had slipped in between the other two. He smiled and laughed and agreed with all of Chuck's assertions about how epee fencing was the only real fencing but rapiers were fun on special occasions. The younger man seemed oblivious to what Jeff hoped wasn't an obvious attempt to keep Chuck away from Annie. Annie herself had probably cottoned to it, Jeff knew, but one problem at a time. Step one, ingratiate himself with Chuck the idiot and his idiot friends. Step two, demonstrate his superiority over all of them. Step three, no longer feel threatened by a guy being friendly to Annie. Not that Jeff felt threatened, of course. Jeff was not a guy who felt _things_ , much less threatened…

By the time they reached the other fencers, Chuck was eager to introduce Jeff to the group, along with Annie. Under other circumstances, she'd have just exchanged a few pleasantries, then moved on to explore the rest of the Faire, but Jeff's odd behavior filled her with a sort of morbid curiosity.

"What has gotten into you, Jeff?" Annie asked him, during a brief lull when she was able to pull him aside. "I didn't think you were the kind of guy who cared what a bunch of… sword-jocks thought of you."

"Annie, you forget, I can make friends anywhere." He grinned at her, a little too broadly.

Her eyes narrowed. "This is some kind of jealousy thing, isn't it?" she asked. "I was talking about how I had a crush on the knights when I was in the eighth grade.. The eighth grade, Jeff… and Chuck was being all friendly to me, so you, what, you have to be friendlier to him?"

"Please. Why would I mind if my new buddy Chuck is 'being all friendly' at you? He's adorable. He's like a puppy." Seeing she wasn't mollified, Jeff pressed further. "A great guy, obviously. You should date him."

Annie reared back. "Whoa! You're just getting weird now."

"You should date him," Jeff repeated, more slowly. _Because if I say that you should date him, then I'm obviously fine with you dating him_ , he thought to himself _._ He wasn't fine with Annie dating Chuck, of course. In fact the idea filled him with a sort of queasy rage he couldn't name. However Annie didn't need to know that. It was just that Jeff thought Chuck was a monkey and she deserved better. "Right after I demonstrate that he's basically a monkey I can get to do whatever I want."

She looked at him like he was crazy. "You just met him, you can't seriously think you can get him to do whatever you want."

Jeff licked his lips nervously. He reminded himself his ultimate goal here was to demean Chuck in Annie's eyes, because… well, he wasn't sure why, but it definitely wasn't because he didn't like that Chuck had been friendly with her. "I can and I will. You want me to demonstrate? I'm going to fence him."

"Jeff, you aren't in the SCA, you aren't dressed for it, you can't…"

"No, I can do that. I can." Jeff swallowed. He wanted, no, he _needed_ Annie's buy-in on this, he realized on some instinctual level where he couldn't lie to himself. "In fact, I _bet_ you I can."

She raised an eyebrow. "You bet me?"

"I bet you. I bet you, uh… lunch. Eh?" He tried to smile disarmingly at her.

Annie didn't smile back. "I already had lunch."

"Lunch another day, then," Jeff said. "They're going to call me Wingman, and I'm going to get a sword, and I'm going to fence with your friend. It isn't that hard. People did it in the Middle Ages, and they were all idiots back then, which is why they didn't have text messaging or plastic."

* * *

Meanwhile on the far side of the Faire, within the mazy confines of the crafts area, Shirley and Britta were examining handmade jewelry. More accurately, Shirley was staring at handmade jewelry while Britta stared at everything except handmade jewelry. "Chainmail bikini and shirtless barbarian at three o'clock," Britta murmured to Shirley.

Shirley glanced up at the pair. "Oh, that is not a good look for him." She picked up a string of wooden beads marked with random Futhark runes. "So Britta," she said, her voice lilting upwards, "you and Troy seem to be enjoying one another's company."

"Hm? Yeah. I guess." Britta craned her neck to try to get a better look at one of the passersby.

Shirley took a break before she continued. "I do hope you're not disrepecting yourself, or Troy, by giving in to society's pressure to degrade yourselves…"

"What?" Britta whipped her head back around. "Sorry, that wasn't a rhetorical 'what,' that was, what did you say? It sounded like you said something crazy."

Shirley paused to consider her words carefully. "I said I hope that you and Troy aren't making any mistakes."

"What, you mean like…" Britta trailed off as she finally took Shirley's meaning. She scoffed in disbelief. "Shirley, are you serious?"

"Dead serious!" Shirley switched to her 'other voice,' a low growl. "I don't know the kind of man you've been with in the past, well, actually I do in several instances, but Troy is good boy."

"Meaning I'm not?" Britta's eyes were wide with shock. "I can't believe you're saying this to me!"

"Well, I know your mother isn't exactly…" Shirley stopped, then started again. "No. I mean, I'm a woman with a little more experience than you in terms of what makes a relationship work, and I don't want to see you hurting Troy, or yourself, because you can't…"

"Shirley!" Britta's voice shifted to a near-screech. Several of the nearby Faire-goers looked up, interested in the scene. "You're telling me you know what makes a relationship work? You married your high school sweetheart, took him back after he cheated on you, and you have the gall to lecture me on respecting myself? When have you ever respected yourself?!"

Shirley glanced around uneasily, acutely aware that they were the center of attention. "With all due respect, Britta.." she began diplomatically.

"With all due respect Shirley I didn't ask for your opinion!" Britta snapped. "When I'm looking to become a dissatisfied housewife who wasted her youth on a man who very obviously isn't worth it and who at the end of the day is always going to be seen primarily as a mother instead of a person, I'll come to you, but until then, I don't need your meddling!" She spun on her heel and stomped away, angry tears forming.

Shirley watched Britta go without saying anything, blinking back tears of her own.

* * *

At the fencing arena, Annie leaned against a post and stared grimly at Jeff as he emerged from a small knot of fencers and approached her.

"You're totally going to owe me lunch," he told her.

"You know," Annie replied, "I didn't actually agree to…"

"Wingman!" Chuck's cry cut her off. He walked up, making gunfingers at Jeff. "Pretty lady," he greeted Annie.

"And to think we used to be friends," Annie murmured quietly to herself.

"What's the good word, Chuck?" Jeff asked him.

"I cleared it with Jerry, we can totally do a little impromptu lesson. Just got to get you a safety helmet."

"Great," said Jeff. He shot Annie a smug look; she stuck her tongue out at him, quick enough that Chuck didn't see it.

"Okay, cool. We can get that going in just a few minutes." Chuck smiled, then turned aside, signaling to Jeff to follow him just out of Annie's earshot. "So, uh, I do have one question, though. What's up with you and Annie?" Chuck asked him quietly, once they were far enough away. "You with that, or are you just friends?"

Jeff found himself momentarily at a loss for words.

Chuck, not the most perceptive of men, didn't notice. "'Cause man, it's nothing to be ashamed of. She's cleaned up _noice_. I couldn't blame you. I barely recognized… you know, we used to call her Annie Adderall. She's looking fine now, though. I was thinking I'd, you know, go for it — the kind of girls who dress up for the Faire are total fencing groupies — but if she's yours, I wouldn't."

Jeff continued to stammer.

Chuck continued to not notice the expression on Jeff's face. "Man, Annie Adderall. I bet she's a freak, too, you know, trying to compensate for being such a dork that she's up for anything. Heh."

Jeff viewed the world as through a red-stained pane of glass. _Punch him_ , one part of Jeff suggested. _No, no, get a sword and stab him_ , suggested another. _Go tell Annie what he just told you_ , demanded a third. Or would she assume he was exaggerating to make some kind of point?

Chuck looked wistful for a minute. "But like I said, no disrespect intended, dude. You're a cool guy; I'm not going to steal your girl. Anyway, I'm gonna go find you a rapier."

He patted Jeff on the shoulder and walked away.

"So the thing about Annie," Jeff began slowly, and then realized he was speaking to empty air. "The thing about Annie is you don't get to talk about her that way," he muttered.

* * *

Alas! The Flemish crossdresser and the princess have sundered their friendship. Can this rift be repaired? It's a difficult question, but not the only question our band of heroes must face. What will become of the starship captain, now wandering forlornly with no princes to play with? Will the prince's predictions of a bleaker future come true, and are they a self-fulfilling prophecy? What the hell will it take to get the attorney to stop behaving so asininely in his attempts to woo the other princess, and for how much longer will she tolerate his nonsense?

Fear not! At the good king's Renaissance Pleasure Faire all these questions shall indeed be answered, ye kind lords and ladies! First we must however take a second short break, during which time ye are again welcome to avail ye-selves of the donation options offered by Ye Olde Hat.

Huzzah!


	9. 4a03: Perspectives on the RenaissanceIII

Huzzah! Fine lords and ladies, surely now your attention is whetted most keen, and ye seek answers to ye's burning questions. I'll waste no time, and jump straight into it.

Once upon a time there was an attorney who tried not to hate himself. He had been struggling to not hate himself for some time, and only recently had he seemed to turn any kind of corner and make real progress. Part of that progress was accepting that he adored a certain princess of his acquaintance, and that her opinion of him meant more than anyone's. Another part of that progress was facing the truth that merely adoring a princess didn't make the attorney a suitable match for her. And a third part of that progress was recognizing that the attorney needed to understand that by refusing to allow the princess to determine her own mind, he was in fact infantilizing her…

I can see I'm losing you. You know what? I'm going to start over.

Once upon a time there was a princess, and an attorney who had problems (mostly self-inflicted). For reasons he refused to articulate, even to himself, the attorney was overwhelmed with jealousy whenever another man showed undue attention to the princess and especially when she seemed intrigued by other men. This jealousy drove him to strange places, a kind of madness that caused many of the attorney's aforementioned self-inflicted problems.

No, that's still too long. Once upon a time there was a princess and an attorney who loved her but was also kind of a jerk.

One day the attorney and the princess met an old friend of the princess's, now a mighty knight. The knight flattered the princess, and the attorney seethed, until he could stand it no more. Rather than speak honestly to the princess about his feelings, the attorney challenged the knight to combat on the field of battle, despite the obvious problems with this plan.

* * *

"There are some really obvious problems with your plan." Annie glared at him.

Jeff fiddled with the fencing helmet Chuck had given him, trying to figure out how to adjust it to fit. "Name one," he said without looking up.

"One. You don't know how to fence. You could get hurt."

He scoffed. "There's plastic tips and masks and stuff, I'll be fine."

"Two. You don't know how to fence, part two: assuming you're even able to stand the right way to have an actual bout, Chuck will effortlessly defeat you."

"I know!" Jeff glanced up, then quickly went back to his mask. "It's not about winning, it's about sportsmanship. I said I wanted to try it." _Also_ , he thought, _I am going to cheat and… I don't know, break his nose or something._

"Three. You're doing this because you're jealous of the attention I've been giving Chuck."

"Not true!" Jeff barked, studiously examining his mask. He was doing this because Chuck had badmouthed Annie. He was defending Annie's honor, was what he was going. Jeff was, he decided, practically a knight of olden times himself, rising to the defense of his beloved's honor…

…Not that he was Annie's beloved. Or rather, not that Annie was his beloved, he corrected himself.

"Okay, fine, four, you're also doing it because you need Chuck and the fencing jocks to like you, and how they feel about you is more important to you than me, I guess, because all that's happening right now is that you're making me mad."

Jeff blinked a few times. Annie's words had stung, but he did his best to conceal that. "You are mistaken," he said breezily, still focused on the mask's straps. "And I will tell you why as soon as…" _as soon as I come up with a good-sounding lie_ "…as soon as I finish tightening these."

"Five," said Annie. She spun on her heel and marched directly away from the fencing arena.

Jeff looked up when Annie didn't name a fifth thing. He rose, and bit his lip, trying to think of what to say if he chased her. When he chased her, to be honest.

"Wingman!" cried Chuck, approaching from behind Jeff. In his hands he held a second sword that appeared to have been made from duct tape and some kind of dowel. "I found a practice rapier you can use. Now, you want to… Wingman?"

Jeff turned to the younger man.

"Heh, yeah." Chuck proffered the rapier to Jeff, who gingerly took it. "See, the way you want to hold this, is… uh, guy?"

Jeff had turned back towards the spot Annie had been standing. He sighed heavily.

"Everybody's over by the pavilion," Chuck told him. "C'mon, everybody wants to show you how it's done." He glanced around. "Where'd Annie Adderall go?"

Jeff ignored Chuck. "Damn it," he muttered. He dropped the mask.

"Jeff?" asked Chuck.

Jeff sighed. "Chuck? First, you don't call her Annie Adderall."

"What, guy?" Chuck asked with a chuckle.

"Second," Jeff said, and then he bent the rapier in his hand over his knee until it had a ninety-degree bend in it.

"I was hoping that would snap," Jeff said, examining it. "What is this, fibreglass?"

"What the hell, dude?!" Chuck was livid.

Jeff tossed the worthless item to the ground. "I was going to punch you in the face, but violence never solved anything," he said.

"What?!" Chuck bellowed. "Guy! That cost almost a hundred…"

"Shut up," Jeff suggested. Swearing under his breath, he ducked under the rope fence and jogged after Annie.

* * *

"Okay," said Troy. "King Arthur and Robin Hood have defeated the vampires."

Abed nodded. "Check."

"England is saved," Troy continued.

"Check."

"We've totally done all of the stuff we said we were going to do."

"Check."

"I'm not going to _not_ do stuff I said I was going to do with you."

"Sure." The difference in Abed's tone was slight, but to Troy it stood out clearly.

"Buddy! I know I've been kind of preoccupied with Britta lately, but, you know, it's not the first time one of us has been distracted by a girl." Troy sat down on a bench and gestured for Abed to join him.

He did so. "I know. Britta's different, though. She's made an attempt to watch _Inspector Spacetime_ with us."

"So?"

"So you let her," said Abed. "So she intruded on what had been off-limits. So she established a precedent that previously unbreachable barriers can be crossed. When you and she break up and you move on, there'll be a presumption that the next girl is welcome to join us at movie night, too."

"I'm really not comfortable with the way you keep predicting we're going to break up." Troy sighed.

"You and Britta, or you and me?"

"Both!" cried Troy. "I tell you man, I am always going to be your friend. Maybe I'll get married. Maybe I'll move to France. Maybe I'll move to Mars once they open it up for homesteaders. But I'm always going to be your friend. Always. We're not going to just, like, peter out."

"I don't think it will peter out," Abed said. "Most people get frustrated with me and push me away."

"Well, I won't," Troy insisted. "I don't do that to people."

"You did it to Pierce," Abed pointed out. "We both did."

* * *

Britta was discovering, the hard way, that the crafts area of the Faire was a maze of tents selling crap. Colored rocks, ceramic frogs, homemade soap, homemade honey, homemade felt hats, homemade candles, homemade candies, homemade cookies, homemade fudge, hand-blown glass, hand-woven tapestries, hand-woven baskets, and then colored rocks again because she'd circled all the way around without finding the way out.

She considered just pushing through one of the tents, regardless of how many hand-stamped bronze placards it sent crashing to the stony ground. But before she could psych herself up to cause substantial property damage, Shirley found her.

"Britta," Shirley said stiffly, her voice high and almost cracking, "I apologize for being a busybody. I understand that it's not my place to comment on your life choices, regardless of how destructive I personally feel them to be."

Britta scowled. She wanted to snap at Shirley for trying to take the mortal high ground, but mostly she just wanted to get out of the crafts area and find a stand selling mead or beer or wine. "That, that's fine, Shirley. I'm sorry I snapped at you. Can we just put this behind us?"

"Of course, Britta, if that's what you'd like." Shirley's voice slipped up another half an octave. She glanced around. "These are some very pretty bronze Pottery-Barn-esque pieces of… stuff, that you've found."

"Yeah." Britta sighed. "I could really imagine decorating my bathroom with this junk."

"Oh, not your bathroom," said Shirley, in something like a normal tone of voice, "people have to use that and you want them to be comfortable."

Britta snickered, as the woman whose tent it was glowered at them. "Do you know how to get out of here and find a wine stand? They have wine at Renfaires, right?"

Shirley nodded. "How else could people stand them?"

A few minutes later Shirley and Britta were sipping glasses of red wine and sitting under a tree, watching people in costumes worse than theirs wander by.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," Britta said. "You were just trying to help."

"That's true."

"You've been married for years. It's been rocky but you've made it work," she continued.

"That's true," Shirley repeated.

"And I've never been in a relationship that lasted past the spend-a-weekend-chained-to-his-bed phase, and the breakups are always terrible, and I end up losing all of our mutual friends." Britta sipped her wine glumly.

Shirley nodded.

"In two weeks if we're still together Troy will be my longest relationship."

Shirley began to nod, but did a double take. "What?"

"Usually I…"

"You and Troy got together right before classes started, am I right? You weren't secretly hooking up all summer or anything?"

"Yeah…"

"So your record for a relationship is _five weeks_?"

"No!" Britta said defensively. "It's my record for a relationship without any interruptions. Like, three weeks on, two months off, four weeks on, until the next time the carnival comes through off…"

"Who was this five-week Lothario who kept you on the hook for longer than any other man?" Shirley asked.

"He was…" Britta glanced around, suddenly self-conscious. "He had a boat."

"And what about Jeff? Weren't you and he secretly dating for months?" Shirley scowled. She'd always thought Jeff and Britta were cute together.

Britta scoffed. "Okay, that totally doesn't count for like eighteen different reasons. I mean, I actually _like_ Troy. We hang out, and… I don't know! It's different!"

Shirley closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay," she said. "It's not my place to try to help you _not ruin your life and Troy's life_ , girl, what the Christ do you think —"

"Okay, okay, okay!" Britta held up her hands in a cool-it gesture. "I hear what you're saying. I just…" She sighed.

"Right, right." Shirley emptied her plastic wineglass. "It's your life, you live it how you want, I love you and I want you to be happy and I'm not judging or trying to offer you advice."

"You could offer me some advice," Britta said, in a weary tone. "I mean, you obviously know something, you've been with Andre for so long."

"I pretended to like country music." Shirley looked into the middle distance, remembering. "Andre was going through this country phase when we met? God awful. Eventually I came clean, and he said he'd gotten sick of it months earlier but he'd pretended he still liked it because I still liked it, and I said I never liked it in the first place…"

"Troy is really into _Inspector Spacetime_ ," Britta offered.

"We're not talking about Troy right now, Britta, because that is a conversation we clearly have to work up to. In fact, I shouldn't even be talking about Andre yet. We need to start with an example of a relationship that hit that big six-week milestone, and work our way up." Shirley leaned back against the tree trunk. "In high school I knew this boy named Malcolm…"

* * *

"Annie!" Jeff called out. He was sure she heard him but she didn't turn or acknowledge him until he had caught up to her.

"You're missing the fencing," she said without breaking stride as he fell in next to her.

"You win," he said simply, which was enough to stop her in her tracks.

She turned to him in surprise. "I win?"

"Yeah, I… You're right."

Annie narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "How was I right?"

Jeff glanced around as though fearful someone might be listening. "I shouldn't have tried to ingratiate myself with the, what'd you call them, the Scadians." He coughed. "Also, Chuck is not a guy I think you should be dating."

"Hmm." Annie looked thoughtful. "Who should I be dating?"

"Uh…" Jeff's eyes widened in shock for a split second, then he recovered. "Ahem, I mean, I don't know, I mean, whoever you want? Chuck's a dick, though."

She gestured for him to continue. "And?"

Jeff stroked his chin and wondered what else she could possibly be fishing for. "And? And, uh, you were right when you said I was jealous."

"You were jealous." Annie nodded slowly. "I see." She stared at the ground in front of her.

When she didn't say anything else, Jeff cleared his throat. He considered saying something like _of course I was jealous! You're my favorite person and you were flirting with another guy_ but he was dangerously uncertain he could manage to get it out without sounding like _of course I wasn't jealous because I want to be the guy you're interested in dating_. Because she was his friend. She was important to him. He didn't just want to sleep with her. Strike that, he told himself: he didn't want to sleep with her, full stop.

 _Keep repeating that until you believe it._

"So, uh, forgive me?"

"Mmm?" She snapped back to attention. "You're sorry?" she asked with a smirk.

"I'm sorry and I understand that what I did was wrong," he said. Sensing Annie needed him to say more, he continued "and I want to make it up to you. If you're still willing to hang out…?"

"Oh, sure. Absolutely." Annie started strolling through the Faire at a more relaxed pace, a smirk on her face. "So this is refreshing," she said after a moment.

"Yeah?" Jeff, next to her, asked wearily.

"I'm just saying. Usually when one of us goes flying off the handle it's me, and then you give me a heartfelt talk about how great I am in a little speech that contains an implicit apology, and then I come right out and apologize," she said, still smirking.

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't think that's completely accurate…"

"It's okay, Jeff, I forgive you." Annie reached out and grasped his shoulder, then gave it a squeeze.

"I also broke one of their swords. Well, I bent it. It was just fiberglass."

She nodded. "That sounds about right."

Jeff sighed. "We can just put this whole incident behind us, right? Pretend it never happened?"

"Well, I don't know that I can let you off the hook that easily. You do owe me lunch," Annie replied.

* * *

"Captain's log, supplemental," Pierce narrated to himself as he sulked through the Faire. "The natives of this era are hostile and unwelcoming. Some of the women are showing really impressive cleavage, but I'm Captain Kirk so I see that all the time. None of the native girls have thrown themselves at me, but I suppose that was too much to expect."

A woman near Pierce, overhearing him, turned away and adjusted her jacket. A disgusted look was on her face.

"No disrespect intended!" he called to her retreating back, then returned to his narration. "Lacking a reason to remain in the area, I'll be returning to my shuttlecraft shortly. I was hoping to find Shirley and make sure she has a way home, but I guess I'll just wait in the car. Message ends."

His shoulders were hunched as he ambled back to the Faire's main gate. Pierce paused there, and turned to scan the Faire one more time. He froze as he heard a flat, mechanical voice address him.

"Halt, human."

"Aybed?" Pierce looked around, trying to find the source of the voice.

"We are the Borg! You will be assimilated! Resistance is futile!" Troy's voice, this time.

"Troy?" Pierce turned a complete circle in place, ignoring the irritated looks the other Faire-goers shot him. "Where are you guys?"

"Designation 'you guys' inappropriate. We are the Borg. Your weapons are ineffective in the face of our superior technology." Abed suddenly stepped from behind the fence blocking the men's privies. He had traded in his ersatz Robin Hood costume for cardboard cyborg armor over a black sweatsuit.

"We will absorb your old white man-ness and add it to our own, like we did with Picard!" cried Troy as he stepped out next to Abed. His King Arthur garb, too, had been replaced with cardboard robot gear.

Pierce's face lit up. "Aw, you guys!" He stood there a moment, grinning, then pulled his plastic phaser from his belt and pretended to shoot at them.

Abed folded his arms. "Our shields are impenetrable to your crude Federation technology."

"Yeah!" Troy nodded. "Your weapons are useless against us! Ptchoo! Ptchoo!"

"Ptchoo ptchoo!"

Troy and Abed pointed their fingers at Pierce and pantomimed firing on him.

"Ha! Missed me!" Pierce ducked behind an ATM kiosk placed prominently at the Faire's entrance. "Also, they could put the ATM in a tent or something, at least get it out of the line of sight, wouldn't you think? People are trying to have a medieval experience, here!"

And on that note, we close this particular chapter in the lives of the attorney, the two princesses, the two princes, the Flemish crossdresser, and the starship captain. Their disputes are resolved. Or, to be more accurate, their disputes are papered over. The Flemish crossdresser and the prince are still the subject of the princess's attention, the starship captain is still struggle to ingratiate himself with the two princes, and the two princes may or may not be on the verge of drifting apart. On the plus side, the attorney has promised to take the princess to lunch sometime, so that might be a step in a positive direction. And so we say with misplaced confidence that they all lived happily ever after.

Huzzah for the Renaissance Faire! Thank thee! Thank thee! Your tips are gladly accepted! We shall be performing every weekend from now until Halloween!

Huzzah!

* * *

Author's note: This is a slightly revised version of this portion of the story I originally uploaded, as I managed to in the process of revising an earlier draft totally bungle a crucial paragraph (the one that starts _when she didn't say anything else_ ) and not realize it. And now I've gone and edited it again, to add this explanatory note.


	10. 4a04: the S of the S and the P of L I

A/N: _Back to the Future_. Have you seen _Back to the Future_? If you haven't, do not read this. Go watch _Back to the Future_ and then come back.

If you have seen _Back to the Future_ , take a minute to refresh it in your mind. Do some searches for videos. I recommend a fanvid of OK Go's "Here it Goes Again" with _Back to the Future_ , and the mash-up _"_ Brokeback to the Future _"_ and a cute albeit low-budget _"Back to the Future_ with lyrics" video you can find online pretty easily. I'd post links but that's not permitted in this space. At the very least, listen to "the Power of Love" by Huey Lewis and the News.

If this was an episode of _Community_ rather than a piece of fanfiction, there'd be an alternate credits sequence wherein the _Community_ theme was recast in the vein of the _Back to the Future_ theme.

 _Back to the Future._ Cannot stress this enough.

Also, thanks again to Amrywiol for beta-reading and offering useful commentary.

Also also, according to my timeline, this episode takes place on October 19th, 2012.

* * *

THE SPIRIT OF THE STAIRWAY AND THE POWER OF LOVE

Act 1

The Hawthorne mansion stood on what had been the outskirts of Greendale when it was built, nearly a hundred years prior. It hadn't been the Hawthorne mansion then; it had been the Outlook Hotel, a big slab of resort intended to entice the hep young rum-runner and his moll, and separate them from their money while keeping smiles on their faces.

It had changed hands, and been remodeled, several times since. Pierce had overseen the most recent renovation himself, during Ronald Reagan's second term. With garish neon and bold designer colors and shapes, stepping into the Hawthorne mansion was in many ways like stepping into 1985. Certainly that had been Pierce's goal, when he decorated it: 1985 had been peak Pierce Hawthorne, in his mind, the era of his largest flickers of greatness. After 1985 had been Pierce's forties and fifties and now sixties, grim decades of decline not just for Pierce personally but, he believed, for America.

It was a dark and stormy night, when Abed came knocking, but Abed was too caught up in his experiences to fully appreciate that reference. Lightning crackled, cloud-to-cloud, overhead as he pounded on the Hawthorne mansion's massive door, refusing to give up even after several minutes without a response from within.

Eventually the close-circuit camera mounted next to the door whirred to a semblance of life. "Come to the door, Pierce, this is important!" Abed exhorted the microphone attached to the camera.

The intercom crackled. "Aybed?" Pierce asked, through layers of technology. "Why didn't you call? I'll buzz you in."

"No!" Abed insisted. "Come to the door! It's important! Hurry, I'm getting drizzled on!"

"What's this about?"

"Come to the door!"

"Fine, fine." The intercom clicked off and the camera's iris spun closed. Abed stood on the mansion's stoop, bouncing on the balls of his feet, for almost a minute and a half until Pierce finally opened the door. He wore a purple silk dressing gown that might not have looked out of place on Hugh Hefner, and slippers.

"Pierce!" Abed cried, as if they hadn't just spoken on the intercom. His tone was tinged with desperate excitement. "You aren't dressed right but that doesn't matter right now. I've just had the most incredible experience! I had to run home and change clothes, but then I came straight here."

Pierce looked Abed up and down. The younger man had changed, apparently, into blue jeans, a denim jacket, and a red down vest. "What did you… no! Let me guess," said Pierce.

"Yes! Good!" Abed lit up. "Exactly. You don't want to know anything about me!"

"Jeff finally came out of the closet," Pierce guessed.

Abed shook his head. "No, no. Never mind, I'll just tell you." He leaned in close and lowered his voice. "You still have a model DeLorean that can reach speeds of up to eighty-eight scale miles per hour? We're going to need it."

"Abed, what do you —"

"That's right, Doc," Abed declared, "we're going to do _Back to the Future_. Dramatic pause." He froze for a moment.

Pierce harrumphed. "You're all wound up."

"I'm in character. Don't call me chicken." Abed glanced up at the sky. "There should have been lightning. But it's okay. We have a lot to do before the Enchantment Under the Sea dance tomorrow night."

"The what?" Pierce asked, as Abed slid past him into the mansion.

"Oh, it's heavy, Doc…"

* * *

Twelve hours later Jeff Winger stood in front of his locker and tried to stay chill. Morning at Greendale was, all things considered, Jeff's second-favorite time of day. His favorite was leaving Greendale, or so he resolutely told himself. But mornings were close, especially ever since Chang had figured out that if he cancelled the stupidly early Historiography classes then no one would mind. Jeff could stroll in around ten, get coffee from Shirley's, and feel, however briefly, like life was worth living.

"Jeff! Good morning!" Annie bouncing up to him at his locker, every single morning, all fired up as though they hadn't seen one another in a week or more… that was a larger part of his affection for this time of day than he liked to admit, even to himself.

"Good morning yourself," he said to her. "You seem chipper."

"Why not be chipper?" she replied. "Life's short. Grab the bull by the horns, life's a banquet and people are starving, and, you know, stuff like that."

He nodded slowly, making an effort to keep a straight face. "Is that why you're in heels?"

She practically glowed. "You noticed!"

"Well, sure," he said, copping to it in part because it gave him an excuse to admire her legs without feeling like a dirty old man. _Shut up, brain, I'm not a dirty old man_. "I mean, it's hard to miss. You're very short so the heels have a disproportionate effect. What's the occasion?"

"No occasion." Annie shrugged. "I just thought it would be good to, you know, be able to reach taller things. My mother used to say high heels were trashy but, you know, I'm dead to her so her opinion no longer governs my shoe choices. I tried them a little freshman year, but, um, it didn't take." For a moment she looked acutely self-conscious, but it passed.

"You look great," Jeff assured her, resolutely not thinking about any implications of anything she was saying in re freshman year. "Although it's a little disorienting, seeing your face closer to my face than usual."

Annie flashed a smile. "I could take an extra step back to balance it out," she offered, and did so.

"No, see, that just makes things worse." Jeff took a step closer to her.

The two of them stood there, looking at each other, for a long moment. As always, Jeff was of two minds when it came to Annie.

 _Shut it down. Getting inappropriate. Take a step back. Kid sister. Too young. Ruin her life why don't you._

 _Oh look, it's the greatest woman on Earth and she's come to smile at me! Today is a red-letter day! Pretty smart kind sexy Annie._

Leonard, passing by, intruded on Jeff's reverie. "Get a room!" he barked.

"Shut up, Leonard!" Annie shouted at him, before Jeff had a chance to. "Your generation dismantled domestic infrastructure and destroyed the middle class!"

"Nice one," Jeff told her.

"Easy for you to say; I'm going to be renting forever." She shot the back of Leonard's head a withering glare, then turned back to Jeff and brightened. "Where were we?"

Her cheer was infectious. "I was about to head to class, and you were about to walk with me and fish for more compliments." Jeff grabbed a textbook from his locker and sauntered towards his next class. Annie fell in beside him. "You know," he said, "it's weird not having any classes together. I mean, besides Historiography, which doesn't count."

Annie nodded absently. "Yeah, it's just me and Pierce most mornings." Jeff shot her a look. "Someone needs to be there in case Chang decides to show up, hold class, and give out a thousand-point pop quiz that everyone gets a zero on because you thought sleeping was more important than your education."

"Than _my_ education?" He chuckled. "I don't see how…"

Suddenly Jeff spotted Abed over her shoulder, at the far end of the hallway. His eyes widened, and he stepped back around a corner out of Abed's sight.

"Jeff, what —?" Annie started to turn and look behind her at whatever he'd seen, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her around the corner, close to him.

He held her close for several seconds, neither of them saying anything, until Jeff realized what the hell he was doing.

"Abed," he said, releasing her. "He's dressed like Marty McFly."

Annie's eyes widened. "Really?" She nervously peeked around the corner. "I don't see him."

"He might have gone into a classroom. You know what this means, though."

She nodded solemnly. "He's doing _Back to the Future_."

He nodded, too. "Hopefully only Part One." Jeff took a deep breath and shifted his weight from one foot to another. Now or never, he told himself. You can do this. "You want to opt out?"

"What?" she asked, confused.

Jeff kept his tone light. Because this wasn't a big deal. This was just a guy asking a girl on a date. Not a date. Not a date. Not a date. "I owe you lunch, remember? I figure if we stay here, it's only a matter of time before Abed finds us and recruits us into playing… well, obviously you're Lorraine, because Jennifer is too small a part and the bulk of the first movie takes place in 1955…"

"Yes." Annie nodded grimly. "And you're Biff."

"Gee," Jeff said, as he rolled his eyes. "Thanks a lot."

She gave him an appraising look that started at his knees and ended at his eyes. "You're tall and… fit… and you're definitely too good-looking to be George McFly." She shrugged. "You could be a cowboy from the third movie. Do you still have that hat?"

"I don't want to be a cowboy!" Jeff did still have that hat, but he wasn't going to admit that at the moment. "Do you want to be Lorraine? You'll have to make out with Abed and then complain that it's like kissing your brother."

"Heh, yeah." Annie let out a slightly nervous chuckle.

"So I say we go while the going's good, and leave the flux capacitating to others, just this once." He gave her an entreating look.

Annie did a double take. "Are you making Disney eyes at me?" she asked with barely concealed glee.

"No," he said quickly, blinking and shifting his gaze to the wall over her head.

"Mmm-hmm."

While Annie considered, Abed and the dean suddenly came around the corner together. "Abed, I worry about you," the dean was saying. "Changing tonight's dance to an underwater theme this late in the game? I mean, yes, I'll do it, because I love a challenge, but please. And you spent all last night with Pierce, he says… Don't give me that look," he added, when he saw Abed roll his eyes.

"Pierce is a great man. Not really," Abed amended, "but for the purposes of the exercise…"

"Pierce is an old nutcase," retorted the dean. "Don't tell him I said that, please. But let me give you a nickel's worth of advice, Abed: if you keep hanging out with Pierce, you're going to end up a nutcase just like him. And…" He trailed off. "I'm sorry, I remember there was something else, but not what it was."

"Do I have a real attitude problem?" Abed prompted him.

"What? No, no, no, no, Abed, no." The dean looked at him a moment. "No. No, you're perfectly civil."

Abed winced, but then his face hardened. "You're a feckless simpleton whose mismanagement constantly threatens to destroy this school."

The dean seemed taken aback. "Abed?"

"You're a bad dean," he said.

"Abed, I… I don't know what to say." The dean blinked back tears.

"Say that no member of my family has ever amounted to anything in the history of Greendale!"

"That was very… I didn't expect you to…" His voice cracked. "Excuse me," he said, brokenly, and dashed off.

"History is gonna change!" Abed called after him. He noticed Jeff and Annie standing, staring at him. "What?"

The pair exchanged glances. "Nothing," they said in unison.

"I'm glad I caught you both. We're doing a _Back to the Future_ homage," Abed explained. "See, yesterday the most incredible thing happened…"

Jeff held up a hand. "I'm going to have to stop you right there. If you finish that sentence, then Annie is going to ask follow-up questions, and then you'll explain, and it'll end up with the two of you dancing to 'Earth Angel' at the dance tonight…"

Annie reddened.

"I was thinking Troy and Britta for that scene, actually," said Abed.

"Really?" Jeff was nonplussed.

Abed sighed. "I know you, Jeff, look at the world through the lens of trying to find excuses to be close to Annie, but…"

And now it was Jeff's turn to redden. "Abed!" he hissed.

"Be that as it may," Annie said carefully, "Jeff and I are going to…" She trailed off, elbowing Jeff.

"I'm not…" Jeff sputtered. "I mean, we… yes. Yes, Annie and I need to go off-campus, for… things that need to be done off of campus. So we won't be participating in your _Back to the Future_ homage."

Annie turned to Jeff, and they exchanged a meaningful glance wherein Jeff nonverbally convinced Annie of the rightness of his words, and Annie enthusiastically went along with it while she pretended to reluctantly go along with it.

"Cool," said Abed.

Jeff and Annie exchanged another nervous glance.

"Cool cool cool," Abed clarified, and they both let out sighs of relief.


	11. 4a04: the S of the S and the P of L II

THE SPIRIT OF THE STAIRWAY AND THE POWER OF LOVE

ACT 2

* * *

For no particular reason at all, Jeff took her to the Tap House.

In his old life, Jeff had frequented several restaurants on a regular basis. Morty's Steak House for steak. Nirvana for Indian. Masamoto for sushi. The Tap House was for lunch meetings with clients who didn't necessarily realize they would be picking up the bill. The cuisine was neo-American, which was a nice way of saying _upscale chicken and Cobb salads and club sandwiches_ , good enough that he'd relished eating there when he could, and expensive enough that even with the salary he'd been pulling in back then, he didn't go routinely.

The Tap House was good food. He hadn't eaten there since he couldn't remember when… probably at least once since he'd started at Greendale, but Jeff couldn't be sure. It was good food and he wanted some good food. That was the only reason he picked it, he told himself.

In the car on the way over Annie had frowned, when he drove past the shopping center that housed both Señor Kevin's Taqueria and the nearest Mister Wow-That-Burger, without turning in. "Where are we going?"

Jeff grunted. "I just feel like something different," he said.

"Oh, yeah?" He glanced over and saw she had that same half-smile she'd had when she'd accused him of trying to make Disney eyes at her.

"It's my treat," he reminded her. "It's only fair I pick the restaurant."

"Okay," she said, and changed the subject.

She tried to talk him out of it when she saw the actual cloth tablecloths and napkins, and how a significant fraction of the clientele were in suits, and again after they'd been seated and she'd looked at the menu and its prices. He briefly considered lying — claiming he had a gift certificate he needed to use before it expired — but instead he just assured her that he'd taken her there on purpose, knowing full well what kind of place it was.

That got him a sly smile, like she thought he was up to something and she'd figured it out.

Still, she'd ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, a garden salad Jeff knew was meant as a side item. He talked her into taking it with steak tips, then added his own order, an antipasto plate, and two glasses of wine for good measure.

"Did you used to eat like this every day?" she asked him.

"Not every day," he admitted. "Sometimes I missed lunch completely, sometimes I just ran out and got a take-out sandwich at the counter across the street from the office."

"Really," she said in a tone that indicated she didn't fully believe him. "I always pictured three-hour lunches as a regular part of your workday…"

"Hey, just because I made up part of my resume, and just because I hate working and doing things, doesn't mean I was bad at my job," Jeff reminded her. "Sometimes a thing had to be done and I was the only one there to do it."

"Uh huh." Annie sipped her wine carefully.

He felt suddenly self-conscious. "At some point when you're single-handedly steering UCHealth, you'll alternate between power lunches and skipping meals, too, I'm sure."

"Mmm, yeah." There was a comfortable silence, and then she assumed a pensive expression. "I've been thinking about changing my major," she told him.

"Oh? What new field of study would you be smashing with your Annie-powers?"

"It's probably silly." She fidgeted in her seat a moment. "I was looking at the hoops you have to jump through to become an FBI agent."

Jeff looked impressed. "Clarice Starling, Dana Scully, Annie Edison?"

Annie seemed slightly taken aback he wasn't more dismissive of the idea. "It was actually something you said, a while back. I don't know. It's probably silly."

"I don't think so. You are…" He paused, to choose his words carefully. "I don't bet against you," Jeff said simply. "I have no clue what the process is, but if you want it, you can do it."

"More school. Moving to Virginia…"

He froze as Annie took another careful sip of wine. The angel and devil on his shoulders were arguing again.

 _Going to Virginia! Makes sense; that's where Quantico is, right? Definitely she's destined for bigger things than this town._

 _No. Wrong. Can't let her go. Hold her down. Talk her out of this. Keep her here. Clip her wings._

 _Clip her wings?_ The angel of Jeff's better nature clucked its tongue. _Now who's the monster?_

Ignorant of the thoughts racing through Jeff's brain, Annie continued. "But it's just a… you know, a childish fantasy. Troy and Abed rubbing off on me."

"Mmm-hmm." Jeff hoped he sounded unconvinced, rather than hostile to the idea. He forced himself to feel supportive of the idea of Annie going away to become a superhero.

"I'm committed to hospital administration," she asserted, as much to herself as him. "I've spent almost four years on this degree."

"Uh-huh."

"I wrote out my life plan when I was fourteen. Granted, there's been some revision since then. I wasn't planning on a nervous breakdown or an Adderall addiction or Greendale Community College… I was going to go to Harvard and meet my future husband…" She stopped as Jeff raised a hand.

"So maybe, just maybe," he began, "the childish fantasy isn't the one you came up with after you were old enough to legally drink wine at lunch, but rather the one you came up with when you were literally a child?"

"Fourteen isn't really a child…" Annie protested weakly.

"A fantasy of control," Jeff continued. "A fantasy that you can decide at fourteen how the next fifty years of your life will go, that you can control when and where you'll meet the man of your dreams, that you know then who you're going to be and who you're going to want to be, when you grow up. And maybe the mature thing is to look at who you are now, what you want and what you need, what you're good at and what you enjoy doing, who you like to spend your time with. Not your picture of how your life was supposed to be, because the you of ten years ago was an idiot and didn't know all the stuff you've learned since then. And who knows that the you of ten years from now will know, do, want?"

Who was he really trying to convince that she's an adult, he wondered: Annie or himself? Obviously she was old enough to know her own mind, sign binding contracts, buy liquor or vote. There was no reason for Jeff to think he was being predatory or inappropriate. Doubly so, given that he wasn't doing anything except taking a friend to lunch. She was a friend.

But then, why even use the word 'predatory'?

Across the table, away from Jeff's internal maelstrom, Annie looked thoughtful. "Well, maybe…" Then she smiled. "Jeff, are you Winger speeching me?"

He grinned back at her, pushing the dark thoughts away. "Maybe a little…"

* * *

Meanwhile Britta stomped down one of Greendale's hallways, furiously ignoring Chang at her heels.

"Come on, Britta! Come on come on. We both know you're going to say yes eventually, do we have to go through this?"

"No! No means no! How many times can I say _you tried to murder us_?"

"Everyone else has let that go," Chang protested. "You're living in the past, Britta! Chang back to us! Chang back to the future!"

"Chang…" Britta scowled. "Did you just use 'Chang' for 'come?'"

Chang snickered.

"Ew. And for the last time, no! I'm not your friend and I'm not helping you out!"

"Oh, Chang on, Britta! It's not even a big deal! I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend at the dance tonight so I can fool my brother into thinking that I've successfully moved on from my estranged wife and he won't contest the happily-single clause of our great-uncle's will and the suet farm will finally come out of probate and we can sell the stupid tax write-off and I can pay off my credit card debt. It happens every day in America. Just be my date to the stupid dance!"

"No! I already have a date to the stupid dance!"

"Who?" challenged Chang. "That bug, Troy? I'll murder him, just like I tried to murder you!"

"I'm with Troy, he… wait, no, he's meeting us later," Britta recalled. "I'm actually going with Abed." She shuddered with panic. "Oh, God, am I going on a date with Abed?"

"Abed?" spat Chang. "That is not okay!"

"I know, it's weird, right?" Britta stared at the ground, trying to remember why that had made sense. "Why did I agree to that?"

"So don't agree to it — go to the dance with me!"

Britta shook her head, tabling her confusion for the moment. "Chang, I am not going to the dance with you — not to impress your brother, not to indulge Abed, not for a million dollars!" She reconsidered; a million dollars would spay and neuter a lot of feral cats. "Not for less than a million dollars!"

"A million… I work at Greendale, you think I know how much money that is?" Chang counted on his fingers. "There are ten billions in a million, right?"

"No!" Realizing she could simply walk away, Britta spun around and did so.

"I'll show you, Britta Perry!" Chang shouted after her. "Some day I'll know how much a million dollars is, and then watch out!"

* * *

Somewhere along the way they'd transitioned from the restaurant to a coffee shop. Two empty cups sat on the table between them. "So what about you?" Annie was saying. "You told me you're going to open a solo practice when you graduate."

"Did I?" Jeff made a face, and pretended not to remember.

She nodded. "Then you predicted we'd meet randomly years from now and I'd have forgotten your name."

Jeff recalled the conversation clearly. He'd been depressed over the beginning of their last academic year together. He'd nearly said something he would have regretted. "Well, obviously you forgetting my name is not possible," he said.

If she noticed the pause before he'd replied, she didn't acknowledge it. "Your prediction, not mine."

"I've just got to make sure you're never in a position to forget my name." He tilted his head back, pretending to consider. "I could set your phone's wallpaper to a picture of me."

"Oh, but then I'd remember your face, not necessarily your name," she countered.

Jeff liked the way she'd responded so quickly. He could turn it back around on her, though. "That's an easy fix. Add a caption at the bottom. _Jeff Winger: Your Favorite Greendale Memory_."

"Oh?" Annie arched an eyebrow. "In this dystopian future, you're my favorite Greendale memory, but I need to be reminded of that because otherwise I'd forget?"

"That's just the slogan. It's all about advertising the brand," he said lightly.

"You changed the subject," Annie noted, changing it back. "Do you still plan on going into business for yourself?"

He tried to think of a glib response, and failed. "I don't know." Jeff tried to take a sip from his coffee and realized it was empty. "The plan was that I'd go back to my old firm, but that's done. I never wanted to do a private practice, deal with all the business and overhead stuff. I have this sense that it'd be tough row to hoe, because who wants to hire the lawyer who was almost disbarred because he didn't graduate college and he never went to law school?"

"Probably you won't want to play that up in the advertising," Annie counseled him. "Focus instead on how you did pass the bar exam, and how the bar association _didn't_ technically disbar you, they only suspended you. You're such a good lawyer you lawyered the lawyers into letting you lawyer!"

"That'd be a good slogan. It'd really drive home the idea that I'm a lawyer."

"What can I say? I have a gift." She looked smug for a moment.

It frightened Jeff how much he was enjoying himself, so he forced himself not to think about it. "I may be able to scrape together a client list from our time at Greendale," he said instead. "Pierce, obviously. Although I don't know if I could stomach being his attorney. Every day, it'd be 'Pierce, sign a pre-nup,' or 'Pierce, I told you to sign a pre-nup,' or 'no, Pierce, I can't fix this because you wouldn't sign a pre-nup.'"

Annie laughed. "Okay, that… yes. But have you ever thought about doing something else?" She leaned forward. "You just pointed out I was fourteen when I decided to become a hospital administrator. Weren't you ten or something, when you decided you wanted to be a lawyer?"

"I'm good at it, though," he protested. "I'm such a good lawyer that I lawyered the lawyers into letting me lawyer, remember?"

"Yes, yes." She nodded dismissively. "Still, just ask yourself if it's what you _want_ to do."

Jeff snickered. "Annie, when you get to be my age —"

"You're thirty-four. I've seen your driver's license."

"Still. World of difference between thirty-four and twenty-one."

"Thirteen years. Really only twelve," she added, "because you just had a birthday and mine is in a couple of months."

"They're twelve important years," Jeff insisted. "They're the time you get to spend screwing around making bad choices about your life path, and still have enough time later in life to correct them with no lasting damage."

She shook her head. "So, what? If your fake degree hadn't been caught until this year, say, you'd just be like, 'well, too old now to start fresh, not like when I was thirty, better just give up and drink, bluh bluh bluh, scotch scotch scotch.' That's what you'd sound like."

"I'm a real lush in that timeline, apparently. What do you think I should be doing, then?" he asked her.

Annie looked down at the table. "I don't know," she said.

"Well, you must have some idea." When she didn't reply, he pressed her a bit. "Annie…"

"Okay, okay, fine," she said, admitting defeat. "I made a list." She pulled out her phone and called up a memo. "Consultant," she read aloud, "beccause you're good at sounding like you know what's best. Lobbyist: you're good at getting people to do things for you. In-house counsel for a non-profit: they'd offer to pay you so little you wouldn't be overshadowed by other applicants who _hadn't_ been suspended by the bar association. Teacher slash professor: you know the dean would hire you in a heartbeat, and teaching would make you feel smart. Full-time homemaker slash primary caregiver parent with a careerist spouse: I think you'll make the right woman extremely happy to have you as her life partner someday. Motivational speaker: again, right in your wheelhouse. Magistrate judge: legal background, plus you make important choices and sound authoritative. Career counselor: um…"

"Career counselor?" he repeated.

"Yeah, I know. That was the last one." She looked embarrassed, which on her was almost unbearably adorable. "I was reading a book on career counseling at the time."

"In case I came to you and said, Annie, help counsel me on changing careers?"

She gestured around them. "Well, it happened, didn't it?"

* * *

Back at Greendale, out in the quad, Pierce was struggling into a lab coat. "I don't see why I have to wear this," he complained. "It's my RC DeLorean, after all."

"I've told you," Abed said. "You're Doc Brown."

"Wait, I'm Christopher Lloyd? I thought I was the burly charismatic one, Biff." Pierce adjusted his coat. "Why aren't I Biff? Is Biff gay? Is Jeff Biff?"

"We've gone over this. Chang is Biff."

"Well that's just bad casting. Chang looks nothing like Biff," grumbled Pierce. "Is it too late to change?"

"I only have a few minutes for this before I have to go pretend to sexually assault Britta," Abed said. He checked his wristwatch. "I got a wristwatch just for this."

"Wait, wait, Britta is playing the Tea Leoni part, not Annie?"

"Lea Thompson," said Abed.

"Aybed, you're going about this all wrong." Pierce gave up on trying to button the lab coat. "Speaking as someone who saw all three _Back to the Future_ movies in the theater, it's obvious. You should be planning to pretend to sexually assault Annie, but then Jeff comes in and pulls you off her, and finally… well, I guess it could be Troy. Troy comes in and tells Jeff to get his damn hands off her, and then punches the gay bully right in his gay bully face!" Pierce smacked his fist into his hand, for emphasis.

"I've heard and appreciate your notes, Pierce, but we're going another direction." Abed busied himself placing the model DeLorean at a line he'd marked on the cement with chalk. "Also," he added, looking up, "generally when we talk about _Back to the Future_ we try to downplay the date-rape plot point."

"Fair enough."

* * *

Back in the coffee shop, Jeff and Annie's conversation had drifted to how Jeff had never been skiing, despite living in Colorado his entire life.

Annie chortled. "How is that even possible? I was skiing in preschool. I was one of those little babies in adorable baby-sized snowsuits that you see on the bunny slope."

"Yes, you grew up in a solid gold house with diamond shoes and a bunch of servants I'm sure," Jeff said. "Mom couldn't afford lessons."

She clucked her tongue apologetically. "Even so, it seems like the kind of gung-ho flashy thing you'd be into. Showing off for ski bunnies…" Annie waggled her eyebrows at him.

"There were a couple of school trips," he admitted. "And one big firm-wide thing, a few years ago. But I didn't want anyone to know I didn't already know how to, and…" He shook his head.

She lifted her chin, looked him in the eye, and covered his hand with hers. "I will teach you to ski," she announced.

"It may be too late for me," he said solemnly. "I don't know if I could fit into an adorable baby-sized snowsuit…"

As she laughed, Annie's phone buzzed for the eighth or ninth time. She finally checked it, and did a double take. "Oh, God, it's almost six."

"What? No, it's…" Jeff checked his watch. "Shit. Wow. Yeah." He tried not to think about how he'd just spent literal hours chatting with Annie Edison, with no sense of running out of things to say or even of the passage of time. "That explains why the barista's been glaring at us."

"Has she?" Annie asked anxiously. She looked around, searching for an angry glare aimed her way.

Jeff chuckled. "No, no, it's fine. They don't close for another half-hour."

"Still, we've been sitting her for like four hours, we should get more coffee or something. Sort of pay rent on the table."

He shrugged. "They could ask us to leave, but then all the guys would go, too. Probably cost them more business than the table'd generate otherwise."

"The guys?"

"The guys who only came in here because they saw you in the window and they can't believe how good you look."

She did that thing she did sometimes, where her head bobbed and she looked pleased and embarrassed at the same time. "All the guys ogling Annie. I'm amazed you didn't go with 'all the women ogling Jeff.'"

"I call them like I see them. And," Jeff added, "I figured that went without saying."

"Have you checked your phone?" Annie asked him, indicating hers.

Jeff hadn't — the only person whose texts he was ever interested in was sitting across from him — so he dug his out and began scrolling through the messages. A moment later he let out a low whistle.

"I know, right? We should go back to campus before Abed electrocutes somebody." Annie grabbed her purse and rose to leave.

"You don't think Pierce can… I don't even know. Safely send him back in time?" Jeff asked as he stood.

"Not back in time. Back to… the future!" That last part was pronounced grandly, and louder than Annie had meant it to, judging from the embarrassed way she acknowledged the other customers' curious glances.

* * *

Storm clouds rolled in as they drove back to campus and Jeff fretted that they'd get rained on. Still, though they reached the main hall in advance of any falling rain, he hesitated on the steps.

Annie noticed his reticence and turned to him, saying nothing but giving him a questioning look.

"We don't have to go in," Jeff said.

"Hm?" She sounded bemused.

He tried to come up with a way to articulate that he'd enjoyed the day more than any in recent memory, that being off-campus with her and out in the world had felt like a special occasion, one he wasn't ready to end. "Uh…" _Dammit, Jeff, you're a lawyer_ , he thought. _Talk your way out of this! Use words!_

Suddenly Troy bounded around the corner of the library and spotted them on the steps. "You guys!" He skidded to a halt. "You guys!"

"What? What is it?" Annie asked him.

"Do you know where Britta parked? I'm supposed to be pulling Abed off of her in the back seat of her car, but I can't find her! I need to be there in…" He checked the time on his phone. "Six minutes ago!"

"That's okay," Jeff said, trying to calm Troy down. "I'm sure Abed…"

"But it might not be Abed!" Troy almost shouted. "It might be Chang! Abed was really confusing about that!"

Annie had her own phone out and was placing a call. She held up a finger. "Hello, Britta? Is anybody molesting you? Uh huh? Huh. Okay, good." She pulled the phone away from her mouth long enough to say "Britta says she was waiting for you and Abed in her car, Chang showed up and tried to get into the car, she started the car and almost ran him over, and then she drove to her apartment because she never actually agreed to play Lorraine."

"Who's Lorraine?" Troy asked.

"Troy," said Jeff, "have you ever seen _Back to the Future_?"

Troy shrugged. "I dunno, I guess? Yeah. I think I have. Why?"

Jeff patted him on the back. "You should go to Britta's."

"She does sound pretty upset," Annie said, off the phone. "No no, I'm still here," she told the phone. "Yeah. We're sending Troy over, is that okay? Great." She hung up and said "Britta says yeah, come over."

Troy looked torn. "But Abed needs us at the dance!"

"Jeff and I will take care of it," Annie said, smiling at Troy. Without taking her eyes off Troy, she lightly swatted Jeff on the arm as he stood next to her.

"Absolutely," Jeff agreed.

Troy nodded uncertainly, but dashed off into the night.

"Well, that happened," Jeff said. "All's well that ends well. You want to go get a drink?"

"Jeff! We promised Troy we'd dance!"

"But that was an idle promise!" Jeff looked pained as Annie made eyes at him. "Fine."

He smiled as she flounced smugly up to him, enjoying the moment.

Jeff extended his arm, to walk her into the dance. "Milady?"

She smiled shyly. "Milord."


	12. 4a04: the S of the S and the P of L III

THE SPIRIT OF THE STAIRWAY AND THE POWER OF LOVE

ACT 3

* * *

A stage was set up at the front of the cafeteria, where a student band was working slowly through the hits of the 1990s. Shirley climbed up onto the stage platform and exchanged a few words with the band. From the dance floor it was impossible to hear the argument, but it seemed heated. Eventually Shirley intimidated the band into agreeing to whatever her request was, and claimed the vocalist's microphone. "I just want to say, there's a real shortage of quality roles for women of color in the films of Robert Zemeckis," Shirley intoned into the microphone. "But because I am a team player, I will now sing 'Earth Angel.'"

There was a modicum of scattered applause. The band began to play a garbled but recognizable version of the song's lead-in.

" _Earth Angel, Earth Angel,"_ Shirley sang, _"I don't know the woo-oords…My darling dear, I don't know the words to Earth Angel…_ "

"She's got a good voice," Jeff said to Annie.

"Mmm-hmm." Annie stared up at Jeff and he stared down at her. She cleared her throat, meaningfully.

"Care to dance?" Jeff asked her, taking the hint.

"If you insist!" She took him by the hand and led him out onto the floor.

Slow dancing with Annie seemed like such a natural evolution of the day that it almost didn't hit Jeff just how terrifying it was. Scratch that — inappropriate. _Annie is your favorite person_ , _yes_ , some reluctant part of him was admitting, _but she's like your spunky kid sister._

 _That isn't true_ , came another, deeper urge. _That has never been true, and you can't keep pretending._

Jeff roiled with emotions, utterly engrossed by the hot, soft, lithe body pressing up against his, her lips slightly parted, her eyes-half lidded. He could feel his pulse quicken, as his body responded against his will to the beautiful, wonderful, brilliant women he was…

Staring into her eyes, he completely lost his train of thought. His head was tilted down, hers up, as she didn't come up to his shoulders even in heels.

"You're awfully quiet," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

"I'm just enjoying the moment," he said.

"Moment's going to pass," she said, and then he couldn't stop himself: he kissed her.

* * *

For a moment Annie thought she'd gone blind, but then she realized the lights had gone out. The lights going out was way less important than Jeff bending down and kissing her — hey, going blind seemed less important — so she just shut her eyes and enjoyed it. The music had stopped and everyone around them was talking and none of it mattered, not just then.

She pulled back, after a moment, but he pressed against her, willing her to turn her face to his, and she did, and he was walking her sideways, off the dance floor and away from the crowd, and then her back was against a wall and his hands were sliding down her body and lifting her, from the hips, pinning her with her feet dangling, limply kicking, until she wrapped her legs around him like he was a tree she'd climbed.

"Jeff," she managed to say when he finally straightened up. She was breathless, and she could feel him breathing heavily against her.

"Hi?" Jeff offered, with a sort of embarrassed chuckle.

She moved her legs and shimmied. He got the picture and stopped pressing her against the wall, allowing her to slide down several inches until her feet once again touched the floor.

He took a couple of extra steps back. "Well," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "that sure was a… yeah."

"Jeff Winger!" Annie was delighted. "Are you at a loss for words?"

"Little bit, maybe."

She folded her arms and leaned back against the wall, watching him.

"What?" he asked.

"Take your time," she told him. She couldn't hide her smile any longer, and resorted to covering her mouth. "You can do it."

Jeff stammered. "Um. Yeah. Uh… you want to, uh… Annie, we've known…" He let out another sheepish laugh. "Are you really going to make me…?"

She nodded.

"Okay then." Jeff cleared his throat. "Annie Edison…" He trailed off. "Um…"

There was a long silence. Finally Annie couldn't stand it any more. "Yes?" she prompted.

"Right. Yes." Jeff nodded decisively. "Would you like to come back to my place?"

* * *

The smile she'd been failing to conceal died instantly, and Jeff knew he'd said the wrong thing. There were so many wrong things to say. None of the old pick-up lines he'd used in the pre-Annie… the pre-Greendale days, none of them would work and he rejected them all out of hand.

 _Annie Edison, care to make out in that supply closet?_ That was the first thing that had come to mind, but it didn't seem fitting with the way she was looking at him.

 _Annie Edison, can I drive you home?_ Then she'd get out of the car and go inside and he wouldn't be with her any more, which wasn't acceptable.

 _Annie Edison, can I buy you coffee/buy you a drink/take you to dinner/take you to dinner someplace fancy?_ He'd already taken her to lunch today, adding another meal wouldn't change anything.

 _Annie Edison,_ _would you please-please be my girlfriend? I want to hold your hand and do boyfriend things._ That was not how human beings talked to one another, at least not after junior high school.

 _Annie Edison, I love you._ Stop. No. No no no. Way too… not 'soon,' given they'd known each other for years, but inappropriate and also junior-high-school-y and _also_ he'd had to bite his tongue to stop it from coming out despite all these reservations. Down that road Jeff could see himself begging her to move in with him, to marry him, to bear his children (names came unbidden to mind: Sebastian for a boy, Shirley for a girl). To let him be her champion against the world's wrongs. He clamped down hard on that whole line of thought because it was _not helping_.

Jeff realized she was still looking at him. "Or your place?" he added, lamely.

She turned away, and began walking away — stomping, really. Stricken, Jeff found himself hoping she was enraged, because he couldn't see her face and she wasn't saying anything and if she wasn't enraged then she was crying…

* * *

She didn't want him to see her cry, so she turned and walked away as quickly as she could, hoping to reach her car before the sobs started.

Incredibly, he came after her, like he could talk to her and she'd come around and boom, he'd get sex. That was what the whole day had been about, in his mind, apparently. What it had been about in her mind… didn't matter. He'd walked her down a path to get her into bed, the way he had with so many other women. Probably she hadn't even rated the most effort he'd put forth; he'd actually called himself Professor Slater's boyfriend, back in freshman year. No, Annie was, in Jeff's mind, just like Britta. A fuck-buddy, nothing important, nothing but a notch in the bedpost.

The realization stung her. It stung her, how much it stung her; she'd let herself get so invested in an _idea_ of Jeff that wasn't, it turned out, the real thing.

It stung her, how close she'd come just now to swallowing her pride and just going along with it, half a loaf better than none. Just to get him out of her system.

He was walking alongside her now. "Annie! Annie, I'm sorry!"

Annie broke into a run, which put some distance between them, but her inexperience in high heels betrayed her: she tripped and fell.

She seethed, which at least was better than sobbing, until he came forward and tried to help her up. "Get away!" she barked, willing herself not to bawl.

Jeff held his hands up over his head, as he squatted next to her. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, that was the opposite of what I wanted…"

"Of course it was." She took deep breaths and concentrated on inhaling and exhaling. It helped.

"No, I… seriously, just tell me what to say, and…"

"It's not about saying the right words, Jeff," Annie told him coldly, or she tried to sound cold at least. Focusing on how Jeff was trying to lawyer-talk his way out of it helped her calm down. "You always do this, like people are boxes you just have to feed the right inputs into and what you want comes out…"

"No! That's not it at all!" He sounded desperate, like a used car salesman in cartoons, when the customer started walking off the lot.

"Okay, well, what is it, then?"

He looked pained, and said nothing.

She gave him a good five seconds to come up with something, anything, anything at all to change her mind. She _wanted_ him to change her mind, she realized. And even then, he wasn't able; he couldn't even be bothered to make the attempt.

"Good-bye, Jeff," she told him, and left.

* * *

Across campus, Pierce and Abed huddled over an open breaker box. "I told you this wasn't going to work," Pierce said. "We need way more power!"

"Go out, put the DeLorean back in position, and send it down the street again," Abed instructed him. "I'll reset the breaker right as the hook hits the wire."

"Fine, if you think that'll work." From his tone, Pierce plainly didn't. He turned, and saw out the open exterior door to the parking lot outside. "Jeez, would you look at that?" It had started raining, hard. A flash of lightning and crack of thunder punctuated the moment. "I don't want to go out in that."

Abed straightened up. "Pierce."

"This thing we're doing, it doesn't even really make any sense..."

"Pierce! One point twenty-one jigga-watts."

Pierce sighed. "Tell you what, Ay-bed, you go grab everybody. We'll all go back to my place, order pizza, and watch the whole trilogy on my home theater. Make some popcorn, have a good time. Out of the rain."

There was a pause before Abed spoke. "Fine. The rain doesn't start until after the lightning anyway."

* * *

Jeff sat alone, in the rain, on the steps for several minutes after she left. Once he'd sat there for a half a minute or so, it didn't seem like more sitting was going to make him any wetter or more miserable. While he sat he experienced _l'esprit de l'escalier_ , the spirit of the stairway: the thing you think of on your way out, that you would have said if only you'd thought of it.

 _Annie Edison_ , _you are my favorite person, beautiful and brilliant and dedicated. Everything is better when you're with me. Let's see where this goes, together_.

He tried texting it to her, but she didn't respond.

* * *

About a mile away, Britta and Troy lounged together on a sofa that was essentially upholstered with cat hair. She lifted her head from where it rested on his chest. "Troy."

"Hmm?" Troy's eyes were closed, his arms around Britta, his cat allergies under control with the antihistamine he'd started taking on a daily basis. Life was good.

"Do you think Marty is a good name for a kid?" she asked.

Troy bolted upright. "What?"

"Marty, do you —"

"Are you trying to tell me something?" His face was grave.

"What? No. No!" Britta tried to press him back down onto the couch, but he resisted. "You doof, no. I was just thinking about _Back to the Future_ …"

"Why is everybody talking about that movie today? I just got a text from Abed inviting us over to Pierce's to see it."

Britta raised an eyebrow. "All day Abed's been…"

Troy punched a pillow in frustration. "Kid gets kidnapped by aliens, rides around in a UFO with the voice of Pee-Wee Herman for a while, goes back in time from the 80s to the 70s. What's that got to do with Abed? What's that got to do with anything?"

Britta stared at him. "That's _Flight of the Navigator_. Which…"

She was interrupted by an insistent knock at her door.

"Hold that thought." Britta rose and answered the door. She started to close it again, as soon as she saw who it was, but Chang stuck his foot in the frame.

"Ow!" He pulled his foot back and hopped a bit on his other leg. "That really hurts!"

"What do you want, Chang?"

Chang scowled. "I was thinking about my actions and I decided alone without any input from anyone, especially my Rabbi brother, that I should make it up to you guys. So even though it's totally playing to the stereotype, I'm going to wash and wax your car. 'Wax on, wax off,' you know? From _Karate Kid_."

There was a crack of thunder, and the power in Britta's apartment building blinked.

"I mean, not right this second, obviously," Chang said.


	13. Interlude: Jeff on the steps

Jeff Winger sat on the steps, in the rain, and thought about what had just happened. Annie Edison, a girl he was fond of — a friend, quite apart from her being a beautiful and intelligent woman — had just stomped off angrily, all but ordering him never to speak to her again. Moments before that he'd succumbed to temptation, after fighting it all day, and kissed her. Kissed her and swept her literally off her feet, in fact.

That part she hadn't seemed to mind. The part immediately afterwards was when he'd ruined everything. She'd prompted him to… what? She'd wanted him to say something. He'd panicked, tried to guess at her intention, rejected a whole series of things he might have said, and suggested they retire back to his apartment instead. That part she'd minded.

He had chased after her, down the hall, but hadn't been able to produce whatever magic words she'd wanted, and now he was here, alone, sitting on the steps of a darkened Greendale, in the rain.

His phone buzzed. He hunched over and leaned to one side, shielding it from the rain, as he checked it, but it wasn't a message from Annie.

 **ABED to JEFF (CELL); TROY; ANNIE (CELL); BRITTA; SHIRLEY:**

 **Back to the Future viewing party at Pierce's, ASAP**

He'd just put the phone away when it buzzed again. His heart skipped a beat and he felt his stomach clench when he saw this text was from Annie.

 **ANNIE (CELL) to ABED; TROY; BRITTA; SHIRLEY; JEFF (CELL):**

 **Just got home, exhausted, you guys have fun**

 **[moon emoji] [tired eyes emoji] [snoring emoji]**

Annie had copied him on the text deliberately, Jeff was sure. She was letting him know she wouldn't be at Pierce's, meaning Jeff could go. Or, he thought hopefully, she was signaling to him that she'd be alone in her apartment tonight…?

He sighed, and wiped rainwater out of his eyes. No. He couldn't make himself believe for a moment that had been her intention. She'd been incensed at his suggestion they go to either his or her apartment together, after all. She'd wanted… what had she wanted?

Jeff's mind went back to all the thoughts that had rushed through his head, when she'd been clearing her throat and looking at him expectantly and hiding a smile. She hadn't doubted that he'd known what to say, it occurred to him. Her anger had been from shock as much as disappointment; she'd considered it some kind of formality.

 _Well_ , Reason asked him, her voice cranky, _what would she expect in that moment?_

He'd had to bite his tongue to keep from sounding like a junior high school boy, Jeff protested silently. She knew him; she knew he wasn't a junior high school boy. She couldn't have been expecting him to say _please be my girlfriend I want to be your boyfriend_ , and the first thing that had come to him after that was even worse.

 _People have girlfriends. People are boyfriends,_ Reason told him. Reason sat next to him on the steps, her small body shivering slightly in the cold rain.

If Reason had actually been there, had actually been Annie, then he would have offered her his jacket.

 _You're changing the subject_ , Reason chided him. _In the heat of the moment you almost told her you loved her, then backed away. Cowardice._

 _Or pragmatism,_ came the voice of Pride, striding in to Jeff's rescue. _Love is ridiculous. Especially under these circumstances._

 _These circumstances?_ asked Reason.

 _She's basically a child._ Pride sat down on Jeff's other side, his gray hair wet from rain and his glasses fogged up.

 _She knows enough to make up her own mind, not have him make it for her,_ retorted Reason.

Pride harrumphed. _She could never be his equal, only his… his plaything._

 _Maybe once that was true, but she's grown since then. When's the last time she lost an argument with him?_ countered Reason. _When's the last time he didn't do something she asked him to?_

 _He refuses her all the time._

 _No. He tries to refuse her, but in the end he always bends. Always._

 _He'd only hurt her. He'd only use her. He'd only ruin her._

 _She deserves at least the chance to decide that._

 _He's a monster; that's what monsters do. There's no shame in knowing your limitations._

 _Are you sure you're Pride talking?_ Reason asked. _You don't sound like Pride._

 _Of course I'm Pride,_ he replied, shifting uneasily. _Who else is there?_

Lost in thought, Jeff barely noticed when a car pulled up in front of the steps. He couldn't make out any details in the rain and darkness.

 _He knew what she wanted him to say,_ Reason declared.

 _He's been sitting here trying to figure it out!_ Pride, if it was Pride, barked.

The car turned off, the diver's side door opened, and a faintly familiar figure emerged.

 _He was just afraid to say it and afraid to admit that to himself,_ continued Reason as though she hadn't been interrupted.

 _Bull_ , said Reason's opposite. _What's the worst that could have happened? She'd have rejected him, and oh look, where are we now?_

 _We're on familiar ground, is where we are._

"Excuse me!" The cry cut through the rain and wind, and roused Jeff from his train of thought.

He looked up, Reason and Fear temporarily silenced. "What?"

"I'm afraid you can't stay here!" the man called. He approached, and his dark clothes congealed into a police uniform. He held an umbrella that he thoughtfully tilted to cover Jeff.

"Officer Cackowski," Jeff said, recognizing the man.

"Hey, you know my name. That's great." The cop loomed over Jeff. "Campus is closed, no vagrancy, buddy. Get yourself home." Peering closer, Cackowski seemed to recognize him. "You're one of the Greendale Seven, aren't you? Jed? Jeb? Jethro?"

"Jeff Winger." Jeff considered recounting the time Cackowski had conspired with Sean Garrity, the drama teacher, to give him and Annie a lesson about prop gun safety. "I'm allowed to be on campus; the board rescinded the restraining order."

"Yeah, well, nobody's allowed on campus after ten," said the cop. "You got a car?"

"It's not…" Jeff checked his phone, and for the second time that day, was surprised at the time. "Okay, fine."

Cackowski extended a hand and helped Jeff rise to his feet. "Whew, you've been sitting there a while, huh?" the cop asked. "I'll walk you to your car."

"It's not like I can get any wetter," Jeff said. He acceded to the escort anyway, on the grounds that he could, in fact, get wetter.

"Man sits in the rain for hours, he's got something on his mind," Cackowski said ruminatively. "Heartache?"

Jeff bobbed his head as they walked. "Something like that."

"Well, none of my business," Cackowski said briskly.

Jeff nodded. "There's this girl Annie," he said. "She's a student here. She was in the Greendale Seven, too. I've known her for, oh, a few years now."

The cop grunted, as if to communicate _I can't ask you to be quiet without coming across as rude_.

"We've kind of had a thing for… I don't know how long. Spring of 2010 we kissed, which was a mistake, and then for a while I was sleeping with our friend Britta, which she didn't know about. I broke that off when she found out."

Cackowski let out a resigned sigh. "Uh huh."

"But that was a year and a half ago. Since then we've just been friends. She's a good kid, you know? She'll be twenty-two in a couple months."

"I figured she had to be at least eighteen," said the cop, "or you probably wouldn't be talking to me about her."

"I mean, yes, she's gorgeous, and yes, she's brilliant, and yes, somehow she's into me despite my treating her badly for so long, which I don't know how I could ever make right…"

"Sounds like a real firecracker," Cackowski said absently.

"And yes, she's my favorite person and yes, everything is better when it's with her, and yes, I love her, and…" Jeff trailed off, eyes wide with wonder at his own words.

 _I told you_ , Reason told Fear smugly. _Didn't I tell you?_

 _Yeah, well, too little too late,_ grumbled Fear.

Eventually Cackowski glanced Jeff's way. "Was that a personal revelation? Good for you, buddy."

"But I'd be terrible for her," Jeff said slowly. He swallowed. "I'd use her, and break her. I don't want to, but I couldn't help it. I don't think anyone could be good enough for her. Definitely not me."

 _He knows she's not a literal angel, right?_ Reason asked Fear. _She's got a real controlling streak, off the top of my head._

 _Well, there you go,_ said Fear. _It couldn't possibly work out between them anyway. Think how their views on child-raising would disagree!_

 _That's looking pretty far down the line,_ observed Reason.

"Wow, you really managed to park at the far end of the lot," Cackowski peered through the darkness as Jeff's car finally became visible. "So," he continued, because he hated awkward silences, "how's she feel about it? She shoot you down?"

"No." Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. "Not exactly. I said a dumb thing when she wanted me to say something else. It doesn't matter."

"Not to me, it doesn't," Cackowski agreed. "Probably you should talk to her about it. If she's the perfect angel you say, she's bound to listen."

"Uh huh," Jeff said, considering. "I mean, no." He shook his head. "I don't know what I'd even say."

"Well, take some time, think it over. Just don't do it here." Cackowski adjusted the umbrella as they reached Jeff's car. The two men stood there a moment: Jeff lost in thought, the cop watching him. Eventually Cackowski cleared his throat. "You gonna…?"

"Right, right." Jeff chuckled nervously. He unlocked his car and climbed in.

"You drive safe now," Cackowski said.

"Thanks, officer," Jeff said, as he closed the door.

 _Excellent!_ Fear, in the back seat, rubbed his hands together. _Home, and scotch. Maybe Netflix… wait, what's he doing?_

Jeff had gotten his phone back out and composed a text to Annie.

 **JEFF (CELL) to ANNIE (CELL):**

 **Annie Edison, you are my favorite person, beautiful and brilliant and dedicated. Everything is better when you're with me. Let's see where this goes, together.**

 _I think that's a lovely sentiment,_ Reason announced from the passenger seat, as Jeff sent it.

 _It's a bad idea,_ said Fear, shaking his head. _Three to one she doesn't respond._

 _I'm sure she will_ , Reason assured him. _She's forgiven him worse than this._

 _Well, maybe she's finally learned her lesson_ , mused Fear. _And at best he gets another chance to make the same mistake. Even if he is finally willing to admit to himself he's in love_ , _can he tell her?_

 _Surely he can,_ Reason said brightly. She considered. _He might need the weekend to work himself up to it,_ she admitted. _But then, nothing but blue skies._

 _We'll see,_ Fear said, as Jeff drove home through the rainy night.


	14. 4a05: Ichthyic Cycling I

A/N: Thanks to Amrywiol and Bethanyactually, who both contributed to this being better than it would have been otherwise.

* * *

ICHTHYIC CYCLING

ACT 1

* * *

Early Monday morning at Greendale the campus was quiet and misty. Dew, collected overnight, had yet to burn off the grass in the quad. The usual bright sunlight was absent, in favor of a half-light that Jeff usually saw only when he'd stayed up all night. The things we do for love, he thought as he stared at his reflection in the men's room mirror. Love, he thought again, tasting the word in his mouth. He'd stopped by Shirley's Sandwiches but Shirley hadn't been there yet; it was too early. So instead he had to give himself the encouragement he needed.

The man in the reflection looked haggard and anxious, but then, he'd hardly slept all weekend. Thursday night he'd stumbled home soaking wet and acutely alone. Abed had texted him about going to Pierce's, but he'd ignored it. He'd spent Friday lying in bed staring at his phone, writing texts to Annie and deleting them unsent. Texts and voicemails from his other friends he deleted unread; he'd been in no mood to talk to anyone.

That was the old Jeff, though. That was last week's Jeff, he told himself. He was a new creature now, forged in the fire of sitting morosely in his apartment for three days binge-watching _the West Wing_ , drinking, and transforming himself, by sheer force of will, into someone who could finally think and speak honestly about his feelings. He'd showered, he'd shaved, he'd cleaned himself up, he'd put on his best blue button-down shirt, and now he was going to start to fix things. All he needed to do was talk to Annie, he was sure, and they could work this out. He'd gone over it in his head dozens of times and he understood where he'd failed, and how, and what he should have said to her instead.

The key was historiography. Chang himself didn't come to their scheduled classes, Jeff knew, but Annie did. He'd come to her, not swaggering and false, but not on his knees, either. He'd apologize, and explain, and at worst things would go back to how they'd been.

* * *

The door to the historiography classroom was, uncharacteristically, closed. A window set in the door confirmed that there were lights on within, but a curtain hung down and prevented Jeff from seeing Annie. She was in there, though, surely. Hesitating at the threshold, he stood with his hand on the knob for a moment. Then he knocked, lightly.

He tensed, waiting there, and felt himself a coward for not just striding in. He should have brought flowers after all, he decided while he stood there. Jeff had considered it but decided that had struck too much of a note of artifice, of falsehood. Flowers, in Jeff's mind, smacked of trickery and playing to expectations. It was important that she see him and recognize that he wasn't being anything but honest.

Jeff inhaled sharply as the latched clicked and the door opened, then slowly sighed as Pierce opened the door.

"Pierce, hi," Jeff said as brightly as he could manage. He hoped he didn't sound desperate. Then he backtracked on that: it was fine if he sounded desperate. He was desperate.

"She asked me to tell you no, Jeffrey," Pierce said without preamble. "I'm sorry." He did look sorry, too; his haggard expression closely resembled the one Jeff had seen in the mirror.

"Annie?" Jeff craned his neck, trying to see her over Pierce's shoulder. She wasn't in the narrow slice of classroom that was visible. "Annie, I'm so sorry. I know words alone aren't going to solve this, but… I'm sorry."

Pierce cleared his throat.

"Pierce, please." Jeff stared at Pierce. Pierce shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking uncomfortable, then glanced over his shoulder at something or someone beyond Jeff's range of vision.

Pierce shrugged helplessly. "Sorry, Jeff." He closed the door.

Jeff raised his fist to pound on the door, then slowly let it drop; that wasn't going to do any good. He rested his forehead against the inset window's cool glass, and sagged against it.

* * *

Pierce stood on the other side of the door several minutes before discreetly slipping the closed curtain aside. "I think he's gone," he called over his shoulder.

At the front of the classroom, in a corner well away from the door, Annie glanced briefly up from the textbook she'd been reading. "Thanks," she said, her voice thick. She looked like she might say more, but then shook her head, thinking better of it, and buried her face deeper in the book.

"I know Jeff and I seem at odds sometimes," Pierce said as he approached her. "We have a, I suppose you'd call it a special connection. Two alpha males, both strong-willed… you could say I see some of myself in him. I know he thinks of me as a father figure."

"Uh huh," Annie said without lifting her gaze from the same paragraph she'd been reading for the last twenty minutes.

"I don't know what this is about, between you two, but I've never seen him act like that," Pierce continued. "Is he a good man? Maybe not. But is his heart in the right place? Again, the answer is probably not. Is he even straight? I think we both know that's not completely true…"

Annie slammed the textbook down. "What are you saying, Pierce?" she snapped, then softened immediately. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Thanks for guarding the door."

"You know I support any decision you make," Pierce said. "You're my favorite, and I trust you to know your own mind, because I'm an enlightened, emotionally sensitive male. Back in the Seventies we had encounter groups, which were great for picking up… uh, that's a story for another time. But would it hurt anything to hear Jeff out?"

"Yup. It'd hurt me," Annie said. She'd turned her attention back to the paragraph she'd been reading, with renewed vigor. "Jeff can… he'll say anything." She swallowed, blinking back tears. "Three years ago I would believe whatever he said, because I didn't know any better. Two years ago I believed him even though I should have known better. Last year I wanted to believe and he was good enough not to say anything, and I thought he'd changed. But he'll say whatever he needs to, to get what he wants. Or thinks he wants." She glanced at the door, imagining movement through the curtain. "I've already forgiven him too many times. Given him more slack than he deserves. I'm out."

Pierce sighed as he settled into a seat near her. "I'll tell him that next time I see him. He comes to me for advice, you know. Looking for my guidance."

She didn't look up. "Tell him, don't tell him, either way. I told him all that on Thursday, at Abed's stupid _Back to the Future_ dance. If he doesn't want to hear it, he won't hear it."

He cleared his throat. "So, you on track to graduate in the spring?"

Annie did look up for that one. "What?"

"I'm changing the subject to one a little less fraught. You're my favorite, I consider myself a feminist, et cetera et cetera, but, you know, bros before hoes. No disrespect intended," Pierce said quickly. "I think the expression was originally about gardening tools. You're graduating in June, right?"

Annie nodded, slowly. "Yeah. Are you?"

"I'm not actually making progress towards a degree, I'm just a lifelong learner. No big. I'm no hero." Pierce stretched in his seat. "What do you have planned for after you graduate?"

"Um, look for a job I guess," Annie began. She closed the textbook in front of her, which she'd read basically none of in the last half-hour anyway. "I have a list of area hospitals and clinics that offer internships… I haven't updated it in a few years. I've been thinking about doing something else." She looked pensive. "I thought I'd talk to Jeff about it, but I guess I won't. Huh."

"What's the something else?" Pierce asked. He was eager to keep the conversation off of Jeff, if possible.

"Law school." Off Pierce's baffled expression, she added, "I know, I know, the world doesn't need more lawyers and law school graduates are most likely to end up with a ton of debt and the job prospects aren't great and I don't really want to be a lawyer anyway."

"If you don't want to be a lawyer, which I heartily approve of, as there are too many lawyers already, then why law school?"

"Well, first because I think maybe I'd be good at it, and second because it's one of the degrees that the FBI looks for in applicants. But they also look for people with good work experience, and it would probably be better to be making money than spending it on more school, and I haven't been doing LSAT prep or working on law school applications."

"Is it too late to start?" he asked.

Annie shrugged. "Kind of? The application deadlines aren't until February most places, and you can take the LSAT in December, but there are a bunch of fees and it's too late to take a prep course I think. And I don't really have the money to…"

"I'll pay your fees," Pierce said abruptly. "Whatever you need. LSAT, MCAT, GRE, SATs… are SATs still a thing? Tuition, too, if you need that."

Annie did a double take. "Pierce!"

"I realize I haven't done the best job with lending you money in the past, but this would just be a gift, no strings attached. I mean, I know your generation thinks it's cool and hot and fat to be saddled with debt," he continued, "but you people already have enough of that from all the consumer electronics and health care you buy."

She managed a weak smile. "I can't take your money to…"

"Sure you can. What else am I going to do with it? Pay Uncle Sugar estate taxes, and then the money'll end up in the hands of idiots." He grimaced at the thought. "Whereas if I give it to you for school, then it ends up in the hands of… well, it ends up in the hands of school administrators, so that's a lateral move, but at least you benefit."

Her smile remained weak and forced. "That's really sweet of you to offer, but I don't think I can take your money. And you don't have to offer it, just to keep me as a friend."

"I know that! But don't say no so quickly. Think about it, then say no," Pierce urged her. "Or yes. At least apply to a few schools, and then when you're looking the tuition bill in the face you can… well, think about it."

* * *

Several hours later Britta, Troy, Abed, and Shirley sat in the study room, playing with their phones in silence. Eventually Shirley looked up. "So has anyone heard from Jeffrey today?" she asked timidly.

They exchanged glances, and shook their heads. He'd been under radio silence since Thursday of the week before. Annie hadn't said anything or answered questions, but she hadn't needed to — absent Jeff and tearful Annie told its own story.

"I was going to trying texting him again," Britta said lamely.

Shirley looked at her expectantly. "And?" she prompted.

"Nothing," Britta replied. "I mean, I'm still going to text him. Later, probably."

"Did you try calling him?" Abed asked Shirley. "Your generation calls people."

Shirley cleared her throat. "I'll call him tonight," she decided. "To ask how his mother is," she added, in case this was a clarification anyone needed.

"His mother is home from the hospital but she's weak. He's worried about her, but not enough to go visit her. Which is typical of him," Annie announced as she swept into the room and sat down. "You were talking about Jeff's mother, right?" she asked Shirley. "Something might have changed since last week, but that was the situation then."

"Is Jeff not here?" Pierce asked, as he followed Annie into the room. He sat down, clearly disappointed by Jeff's absence.

"I haven't seen him," Annie said primly. "I'm sure he's fine."

Troy cleared his throat. "So, uh, if everyone's here…"

"Everyone who's going to show up, apparently," muttered Annie, as she rooted through her backpack. "Which is just as well, anyway, because…" She stopped suddenly, as though she'd only just then realized she'd been speaking out loud. "Pardon."

"If everyone's here," Troy repeated, "I wanted to, uh… Shirley, can you…?"

"Oh," said Shirley. She glanced around nervously. "You want to go ahead and…?"

"This maybe isn't the best time," admitted Troy, "but, you know, maybe a little… to, you know, brighten the mood…"

Annie hauled a textbook from her backpack and slammed it onto the table in front of her with a loud thud. "What is it?" she barked. "What's too nerve-wracking for Annie's delicate condition and you can't use complete sentences? I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she added quickly, as the rest of the group stared at her. "I was doing really well, all weekend, this morning, even."

"It's true," Abed confirmed for the group. "She didn't break down sobbing once."

Annie nodded.

"Unless you count crying alone in your room at night. She did do that," Abed admitted. "Or maybe," he said, the thought just then occurring to him, "she was watching a video of someone crying, on her phone, and we could all hear the audio through her door and leaped to conclusions."

Annie dug some tissues out of her bag and wiped away her tears. "I'm sorry to…"

"It's okay, sweetie," Shirley assured her, stroking her shoulder.

"I know it's okay. It's fine, and I don't want to talk about it." Annie took a few deep breaths and began daubing at her face. "I'm fine. Do your… whatever you were going to do. Please."

"Um, okay." Troy cleared his throat again. "So Britta, I was talking to Shirley and I did the math and, uh…"

Shirley lifted a cardboard cake box from the floor next to her seat onto the table. "Ta da!" she sang, flipping the lid open.

Within was a small white cake with lettering in blue frosting: CONGRATS TROY & BRITTA ON YOUR SIX-WEEK ANNIVERSARY! with pink frosting hearts scattered around.

"Apparently the six-week anniversary is the first big one?" Troy said, his voice rising at the end. "Six weeks and then annually, I guess? Anyway, I got you a cake."

Silence settled over the group.

Annie emitted a faint squeaking sound as she held a tissue up to her eyes and nose.

"Oh," said Britta. "Wow. Wow, that is… has it been six whole weeks?" She tried to count days on her fingers. "I mean, there's that weekend I was in Pueblo, does that week really count?" Her face lit up. "Because then it'd only be five…"

"Uh, yeah dummy," Troy assured her. "Unless you were sleeping with some other guy in Pueblo."

Britta shook her head vigorously. "Oh, no! No, I wouldn't… there wasn't anyone in Pueblo. Or anywhere else," she added quickly. "I mean, we have been together this whole time I guess, yeah. Six weeks. Six whole weeks. Wow."

Abed, with either feigned or genuine obliviousness, had slid the cake closer to himself and began cutting it with a ruler. "Who wants a piece? Cake? Cake? Cake?" He began offering pieces to the others. Pierce took two.

"The cake looks great," Britta said, "and thank you so much, but you know, I… I need to go." She stood up. "I have to wash my locker," she announced, and dashed from the room.

Pierce, his mouth full of cake, snorted in surprise. "It's locker washing day again already?!"

* * *

Jeff was waiting for her outside HOSPADMIN 415, "Ennet House: A Rehabilitation Clinic Case Study." Annie shuddered involuntarily when she saw him. Suddenly it was as though they were still here, in the hallway outside the Enchantment Under the Sea dance with the power out, and he'd propositioned her seconds ago, instead of days. Conflicting urges bubbled up inside her: punch him in his stupid handsome face. Kiss him on his stupid handsome face. Run away from his stupid handsome face. Instead she clutched her backpack. If she swung it hard enough she could get some momentum going and maybe smash his stupid handsome face. Then he'd fall down and she could climb on top of him and…

"Annie," he said. He had that I'm-being-totally-honest-now, unguarded expression that she'd finally come to realize was just as calculated as all his other expressions.

"You're supposed to be in class right now," she told him. She should know; she laid out his course schedule for him.

"I'm skipping it, this is more important. Can we talk? Please?"

"I really don't want to talk to you right now," she told him shortly.

"We've got to have an honest discussion," Jeff insisted. "It's the only way!"

She veered away from him in a sharp right turn. "Well, you can say whatever you want. I can't stop you, obviously."

"Great," he said, missing or ignoring her request he not. "I know I really flubbed it last week," he continued doggedly on, pushing though the crowd of students to stay at her side. "But I've had a lot of time to think about it, and what I want to say is, I think, what you want to hear."

She shot him an acid look, and quickened her pace.

Jeff grunted in frustration. "I mean, no, that's not what I mean, not like that. This was easier in my head. Of course in my head you were standing still… what I mean is, you and I are a lot more on the same page than you think we are, and… and now you're going into the ladies' room," he observed as she ducked into the women's restroom.

Inside, Annie looked at herself in the mirror and tried to gauge whether she looked exhausted, like she hadn't been sleeping because of him, or just like she was falling apart at the seams for possibly unrelated reasons. As she looked at herself, she realized she saw her mother. It made sense; she was exhausted and angry. All she needed was a daughter she could call a disappointment.

"Please," Jeff said as he appeared in the mirror beside her.

Annie turned and shrieked. He was, in fact, there; she wasn't hallucinating. For a quarter of a second she was speechless, then reason returned. "Jeff, this is the women's restroom!" she hissed. "Get out of here! Someone could come in at any second!"

"Not until we've talked," Jeff said. "We've got to talk about this."

"There's a man in the women's restroom!" she shouted. "There's a man in the women's restroom!"

Jeff cringed. "Annie, please," he said again, sounding desperate.

It was just a ploy, she reminded herself. With Jeff, it was always just a ploy. "Man in the women's restroom!" Annie shrieked again.

Jeff held his hands up in surrender and stepped backwards out through the doorway, back into the hall. Annie stayed in the restroom for several minutes, until she risked missing her next class, "Bankruptcy Among ER Patients." She emerged only hesitantly, half-expecting Jeff to have marshaled some kind of posse to force her to sit and listen until she accepted whatever cockamamie story he'd come up with to defend himself.

Instead the hallway was empty. Annie was left alone and, though she hated to admit it to even herself, disappointed.


	15. 4a05: Ichthyic Cycling II

ICHTHYIC CYCLING

ACT 2

* * *

After classes Jeff sat in his car, practicing his new hobby of writing text messages and then erasing them unsent. When his phone buzzed with an incoming call, he almost dropped it in surprise. PIERCE HAWTHORNE (CELL), the display read, but Jeff answered it anyway. Avoiding their mutual friends hadn't helped him any.

"Hello?" he said hopefully. There was, after all, a minuscule chance Annie had borrowed Pierce's phone.

"Jeffrey! It's Pierce."

Jeff grimaced. Then, realizing Pierce couldn't see him, he made an exaggerated face of disgust. "Hey."

"I know, I know, you're probably asking yourself how I, your best friend, could side with Annie over you."

"It's not really about sides, Pierce —"

"The thing is Jeffrey, it's not about sides," Pierce asserted over the phone. "But you're probably hurting for company, as I know you haven't seen or talked to Shirley or Aybed or Britta or Troy since last week."

"I'm not really up for company," Jeff began.

"Nonsense! Come out to the bar, I'm putting together a little poker game. Or maybe gin rummy, we haven't decided yet."

"I don't think Annie wants —"

Pierce interrupted him again. "Annie's not involved. Nor her roommates, nor Britta — who, you know, she's sleeping with one of them."

"So, what, you and Shirley…?"

"Shirley had to pick up her kids. Come on, Jeff, I'm trying to do a thing here, make it up to you about this morning."

* * *

The game ended up being Dungeons & Dragons. The books were a different edition than Jeff had used in the past, but mostly the rules were whatever Neil said they were.

"I hear you're going through a rough time, man," Neil said as he sat down at the long table in the back of the bar. The big man sighed sympathetically. "That's rough, man."

"It is rough, yeah," Jeff agreed.

"Well, you know Jeffrey, we're your friends and we're here for you," the dean, sitting next to Jeff, told him. He patted Jeff reassuringly on the knee, then just left his hand there.

"Switch seats with me?" Jeff asked Duncan, on his other side.

Duncan cleared his throat. "I hardly see you for a year and that's the first thing you say to me? If Pierce hadn't told us all about your heartbreak and depression, I'd feel insulted. Actually, strike that, I feel insulted anyway."

"What did Pierce tell you about my heartbreak and depression?" Jeff asked, alarmed.

"Everything I know," answered Pierce. "First, that Annie, who is angry and also all heartbroken, is involved in some way."

There was a long pause, as everyone waited for Pierce to deliver a second fact. Eventually it became clear he didn't have anything else to offer.

"Of course if I'd known what the game was going to be I would have worn my enchanter outfit," the dean announced to no one in particular. "It's actually my sister's enchantress outfit, but I think sequins are a unisex signifier of magic and wonder. Like David Bowie. Oh, remember _Labyrinth?_ "

"No more 80s movies," Jeff told him firmly. "That was last week."

"Yes, the _Back to the_ Future debacle. I do hope the entire decade's worth of cinema isn't ruined for you forever." Duncan shifted in his seat. "Your _Ghostbusters_ , your _Say Anything_ , your _When Harry Met Sally_ , or as it was called on my side of the pond _Sandwich Orgasms_ …" Noticing Neil's expression (a 50/50 blend of confusion and disgust) Duncan explained. "Part of Thatcher's Cinematic Literalism Initiative."

"Okay, well, on that note, let's get started," Neil said. He passed out a set of character sheets. "There's a paladin, a wizard, a cleric, and a sorcerer; pick one and write a name in."

"A clerk?" Duncan blinked in confusion. "Does this adventure require a lot of record-keeping?"

The dean studied the sheet in front of him. "I note the space for gender identity is blank," he said. "Can I put in whatever I want there?"

"Cleric, not clerk. It's a kind of priest. Give it here," Jeff said to Duncan. "My cleric is, uh… Brother Ffej." He glanced at the dean. "Brother Ffej has taken a strict vow of chastity."

* * *

"Britta!"

After she'd dodged him all afternoon Troy caught her in the parking lot at the end of the day. "There you are, Britta."

She smiled wanly. "Here I am," she agreed. Her throat felt uncomfortably dry.

"You, um, you kind of left the study room in a hurry," Troy said. His brow was furrowed in concentration, he was choosing his words so carefully. "I didn't mean anything bad by the cake. Shirley talked me into it, but if it was a bad call it was my bad call, I'm not blaming her…"

"The cake was fine," Britta assured him.

"Yeah?" His eyes narrowed. "'Cause I was looking it up, and the internet didn't make me think six-week cakes were a thing. I mean, while I was buying it, I was like, Troy, why are you doing this, this is stupid…"

"No, no, the cake was fine," Without thinking about it, Britta began stroking Troy's bicep. "The cake was sweet. I assume it was sweet, I didn't have any."

Troy nodded. "It was pretty sweet. I saved you a slice."

"That sounds like you," Britta said sadly. "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, Ricky Jay," he said. "No harm done."

"No, I mean, I'm really sorry for this." Britta stopped touching his arm, and took a step backwards from him.

"I don't understand you, Britta," he said slowly.

"We have to break up. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." There were tears in Britta's eyes.

"What? Why? What?" Troy took a step towards her, but she held her hands up to keep him at bay. This was for the best, she reminded herself.

"I'm just, I'm not any good for you, and we knew going into this that it would, and I am so, and you're really, and I'm just, you're a really sweet guy."

"I _really_ don't understand you, Britta…" Troy was shaking his head slightly, like he couldn't believe what she was saying.

"So I'm calling it. Relationship over, before anybody gets hurt more."

"I don't… is this… this isn't about Abed," Troy said. "I figured if we were going to have a big fight, it would be about Abed, or maybe about pizza toppings, or which TV network has the best comedies…"

"Fox," Britta and Troy said in unison.

"But this," Troy continued, "I don't…"

"We're not fighting. Don't you see? It has to be like this. I'm so sorry." If Britta stood there any longer she was going to collapse into Troy's arms… so instead she turned and ran.

He called after her, but she kept running.

* * *

Jeff, Pierce, Duncan and the dean — or Brother Ffej the cleric, Pierce the Magnificent the wizard, This Space Left Intentionally Blank the paladin, and Selina the sorceress — adventured for a solid three hours before reaching the end of the night's work.

"The stone-faced vizier squints uneasily as he hands out…" Neil paused to roll a few dice. "Seventy-four gold sovereigns for each of you. 'Enjoy this,'" he continued, twisting his voice into a wicked squeak, "'your rightful reward for spoiling my plans! I mean, for saving the kingdom. Don't spend it all in one place!' he cackles. Jeff, your Sense Motive skill is highest in the group. You have a real sense the vizier might not be completely on the up and up."

"Enh." Jeff shrugged. "I mean, it's pretty obvious he's the one behind the theft of the queen's necklace, but we're not going to be able to make that stick without something better than 'he must be evil: he's got a goatee and his job title is vizier and Neil uses this really villainy-sounding voice for him.' I say we take the money and run."

Duncan was checking something in one of the books. "According to this, harlots cost a silver piece for an hour."

"Is harlot a woman-only profession in this fantasy culture?" the dean asked. No one answered him.

"Does it say that really?" Pierce asked, interested.

Duncan flipped the book closed. "Basically it does; you do have to read between the lines a bit. There's ten silver pieces in a gold piece, so I want to hire seven hundred and forty harlots," he announced.

"I want in on that!" Pierce said quickly. "We can set up a wrestling tournament."

Neil coughed. "And we're done for the night."

"Is there a bulk discount?" Pierce suggested. "Can we talk them up to an even eight hundred?"

Neil glared at him. "I said we're done for the night, man."

While Neil gathered up the dice and papers and other gaming materials, Pierce and Duncan settled up their bar tabs, and the dean excused himself for the restroom, Jeff sat at the table and stared into space.

"How you doing, Jeff?" Neil asked him.

Jeff didn't answer immediately. "I don't know," he admitted.

Neil nodded. "Pierce's story, it sounded like you were… jeez, man, I don't even know." He chewed his lip. "I know you and Annie have been doing a thing for a while…"

Jeff cocked an eyebrow. "Doing a thing?"

"I know, man, I don't know. I'm being vague on purpose. Anyway, I know you're not a bad guy. She knows it too, right? She's mad now, because… actually I don't know that part." Neil considered. "You didn't cheat on her or anything, did you man?"

Jeff shook his head no. "I just said the worst thing possible at the exact wrong time." He stared ruminatively into the middle distance. "Well, not the worst thing; I could have gone on a lengthy anti-Semitic diatribe, or something. But it was pretty bad."

"People say stupid things all the time, man. Like, I once told Vicki she and her mother had the same sense of humor? Not a smart move. But she forgave me, once I'd apologized and she'd cooled off."

Jeff grunted.

"So say you're sorry and give her a little time, man," Neil said. "Or maybe not, I don't know, I'm not a guy who knows anything about it. But I do know you're not a bad guy, and if she knows you then she knows it, too."

* * *

Abed was sitting in the living room waiting for her when Annie got home. "Before you say anything, I want to remind you that we share a special connection," he told her.

"Abed?" Annie asked, uncertainly. "Let me put my stuff down before you… whatever."

"We've gotten drunk together," Abed continued. "We've told each other secrets no one else knows, as far as I know. We put the study group together in the first place."

"Abed," Annie said flatly.

The door to the bathroom opened, and Jeff came out. Annie couldn't force herself to feel surprise. "Hi," he said.

"I'm really disappointed, Abed," Annie said. "Get out," she told Jeff. He didn't move.

"Me, or…?" Abed asked.

"It's our apartment," she told Abed. "Only one of us isn't welcome here." She glared at Jeff.

"Actually I invited him in. Well, he asked for permission and I gave it," Abed explained.

Annie realized she needed to sit down before she started shaking, so she collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table. "Please leave," she said again to Jeff. She pointed at the door.

"But I just got here," Troy said from the doorway. He bore a shell-shocked expression.

"Hi Troy," Abed called.

"Abed, a word?" Troy gestured towards his room.

Abed rose. "Actually, let's go for a walk," he suggested to Troy.

"Okay," Troy said dully.

Once they left, Jeff let out a nervous chuckle. "Annie," he said.

"I don't want to hear it, Jeff! How many different ways can I say that?" she almost shouted.

Jeff looked pained. "If you want me to go, I'll go," he began, "but…"

"I want you to go!" Annie interrupted.

He had the temerity to wince at that. Without saying anything he trudged past her, to the door. With his hand on the knob, though, he stopped and turned back towards her. "Annie. Milady," he said, as though he were firing the last arrow in his quiver. "We've known each other for a long time, can't you please…"

"We _have_ known each other for a long time, Jeff," Annie said. "It seems like a long time to me, anyway. But in all that time, have you ever just… You don't respect me."

"That's not true!" Jeff exploded, his calm facade finally cracking. "Dammit, can't you just listen? You're the smartest, best person I know! You're so important to me, and I've been lying to myself about it, and to you! I just want to be honest with you! I just want to finally be honest!" He leaned against the apartment door, face red and out of breath.

Annie let out a slow, ragged sigh. When she spoke, she struggled to keep her tone even. "This, this right here, this is you not respecting me. Actively, right now, here. While you're trying to, I guess apologize, for trying to trick me into sleeping with you…" She broke off when she saw his reaction to 'trick;' he flinched as though he's been slapped.

"There was no trick!" Jeff insisted. "Do you think if all I wanted was to sleep with you that I'd do… that any of this would have happened? I'm trying to tell you, I…"

Annie let out an incoherent screech that silenced him. "You know what? I don't even care any more! Because this, your refusal to accept my answer? Your insistence that you know better than me? I'm telling you until I'm blue in the face and you just don't listen! You come uninvited into my _house_ , Jeff… this is not how you treat someone you love."

Both of them fell silent for a few seconds, staring at each other. Jeff looked as pale as Annie felt.

"This is how you treat a child," she said quietly.

There was another long pause. Jeff leaned against the door. Annie sat at the kitchen table.

Jeff let out a ragged breath. "You're right," he said. "You're right. I'm sorry."

She managed not to start sobbing until the door closed behind him.


	16. 4a05: Ichthyic Cycling III

ICHTHYIC CYCLING

ACT 3

* * *

Shirley's Sandwiches opened, technically, at seven o'clock every morning Monday through Friday. Usually Shirley was there earlier, baking bread and cookies for the day, which meant she kept hours that put her in bed well before any of her friends. As such, she didn't hear about Troy and Britta's break-up until the next morning. The Greendale cafeteria at seven in the morning hadn't become a livelier place since classes had begun; as the sandwich counter opened, it was largely empty, with just a few women sitting in a booth nearby. Shirley waved Britta over as soon as she saw her.

"I saw your text message this morning. You poor, poor dear," Shirley cooed, offering Britta a breakfast sandwich made of butter and salt. "Take this and sit down and tell us all about it." She gestured to a seat in the cafeteria booth across from her.

Annie, next to Shirley in the booth, murmured in agreement. The more she heard about other people's personal problems the more reasonable her own would seem, surely.

"Or don't," Vicki, sitting across from Annie, suggested. "You don't have to."

Britta slid into the seat next to Vicki. "I feel terrible about it," she said.

"You know, I'm kind of blocked in here," Vicki said. She wriggled in her seat, as though considering whether she could slide out under Britta, or perhaps over the back of the booth.

"What happened?" Annie asked her. "Did he spin some web of lies for you? Lead you down a garden path of dishonesty and then try to deceive his way out of it?"

"Troy isn't really the web of lies type," observed Shirley. "Was this about the cake? Did the two of you have a fight about the cake? I told him not to get that cake."

Britta frowned. "He said the cake was your idea."

"My idea, yes, well." Shirley grimaced; she didn't like seeing herself as an interfering busybody. "My idea was that he _not_ get it," she explained.

"I don't know what you guys are talking about," complained Vicki. "You don't have to explain it or anything, if you could just get up for a…"

"Vicki!" Annie whispered urgently across the table. "Britta needs our support!"

"I just wanted coffee," Vicki whined to herself.

"It wasn't the cake," Britta assured Shirley. "Mostly it wasn't the cake." She drummed her fingers against the tabletop. "It was just, it was just so much, you know? Everybody's expectations, and I don't want to hurt him, you know I don't!"

"Of course, of course, you poor poor dear," Shirley said gently.

"Expectations suck," Annie declared grimly. "You think things are happening, and they're going one way, and then suddenly you see that he expects you to just roll over and…" She shook her head.

"I don't understand," Vicki said. "If I have to sit here and listen to this, I have to understand. You," she pointed at Annie, "are a whole other pile of thing, think you're so hot because you've got Jeff Winger shuffling around like a zombie over you, tin man finally found his heart."

Annie gasped indignantly.

"But you," Vicky continued, shifting her attention to Britta, "I don't get it at all. You broke up with your boyfriend because he got you the wrong kind of cake? My boyfriend never gets me cake!"

"It wasn't the cake!" cried Britta. "We were just moving too fast! I had to put the brakes on it."

Shirley bit her tongue to keep from saying something like _see I told you jumping into bed like a couple of sex weasels was a bad idea_.

"Putting the brakes on it isn't dumping the guy. God, you're the worst," Vicki wriggled in her seat again. When Britta failed to take the hint and get up so she could leave, she continued. "'Hey, Troy, I'm freaking out about how fast this is going,' is that too hard for you to say? 'I'm worried we're going to end up one of those couples you see sitting silently across from one another in restaurants,' you could say that, or 'I really resent how you continue to play D&D with Pierce Hawthorne, my nemesis,' or 'I also resent it when you defend Pierce; he totally deserved getting stabbed in the face,' or 'what's more important, me or your radio show getting a promo recorded by Natalie is Freezing?'"

"Some of those may not be generalizable," Annie said.

"Can it, princess," Vicki snapped.

"I agree with you though!" Annie retorted. She turned to Britta. "No, well, okay, Vicki kind of has a point."

"Well, duh," said Vicki.

"I mean, there's a middle ground between just dumping Troy and then ducking his calls and ignoring his texts and leaving him to cry all night in the living room… not that I would betray roommate-confidentiality by saying that's what he did…"

Vicki rolled her eyes and sighed theatrically.

Annie kicked at her under the table. "But there's that, and then there's just rolling over and letting him do whatever he wants, and it doesn't have to be one or the other. You can have a conversation like grown-ups. You should talk to him. I'm sure you can work something out."

"Oh, you're one to talk," Britta retorted. She suddenly felt ganged-up-on, with Annie, Shirley, and even Vicki taking Troy's side. "Like you've given Jeff any kind of a chance to apologize for I don't even know what!"

"He's been stumbling around like a zombie, I said," Vicky agreed.

Annie reddened. "That is a completely different situation! He ambushed me in my house! And you know how he just says words to get what he wants, he doesn't mean anything. If I wanted to be lied at to my face by an obnoxiously smug…" She took a deep breath. "I'd watch cable news."

"A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle!" Britta cried, pounding the tabletop in front of her with her fist.

"You're both nuts," Vicki declared. "'I think Vicki makes a good point,'" she added, _sotto_ _voce_. "'Yeah, Vicki's smart, we should listen to her.'"

* * *

Elsewhere, later. Jeff, Pierce, Abed, and Troy all looked uncomfortable, as none of them felt entirely at home in a bowling alley.

"I'm only going to ask this once, and then I promise I'll drop it," Jeff said, "but why are we here?"

"Troy was dumped yesterday," Pierce reminded him. "In the most humiliating way possible, really. Britta just got up and left. Troy chased after her, and she was all, 'welcome to dumpsville, population you,' and…"

"Thank you, Pierce," Troy said. "Thanks for reminding me about that… I'm being sarcastic."

Pierce shrugged. "I say what we're all thinking. That's who I am. You, Jeff, are a heartbroken shell of a man, but…"

"Hey!"

"It's true, you are," Abed agreed. "The clothes you're wearing were clean when you put them on yesterday morning, your hair is actually unkempt instead of styled to look unkempt and since last Thursday you've clocked more than four seasons of _the West Wing_ on Netflix."

"Note to self: change my Netflix password again," Jeff muttered.

"Those are not short seasons, Jeff. They're twenty-two episodes each. That's a cry for help. Annie's not doing much better."

Jeff perked up. "What about Annie?"

"I helped Jeff already," Pierce declared. "We played Dungeons & Dragons. This is for Troy."

"You played Dungeons & Dragons without me?" Abed peered at Jeff. "Was Neil running? Which edition did he use? It was Fourth, wasn't it?" He shook his head slightly. "You sicken me. I shouldn't have let you into the apartment last night."

"Okay!" Jeff clapped his hands together. "Let's bowl!"

* * *

The final score was Abed/Troy 104, Pierce/Jeff 113. For a five-frame half-game, they weren't terrible scores. However, the men had played a full ten frames.

"Bowling is not our game," Troy declared.

"Speak for yourself," crowed Pierce. "We beat the pants off of you!"

"Pierce, you scored sixty points," Jeff pointed out.

"More than anyone else, yes, thank you." Pierce glowed with accomplishment. "Another game, gentlemen?"

"I thought we were going to go around the group and each offer Troy advice," said Abed. "I have some notes prepared."

"That's okay, buddy," Troy assured him.

"No, no, that's a good idea," said Pierce. "I'll go first. Troy, Britta is crazy." He paused, as though for laughter. "But all women are crazy, and I know you like her. You should try to talk to her, because maybe you can talk her into being less crazy. She doesn't know what she wants."

"That is terrible advice," Jeff snapped before anyone else could respond. Looking around, he added, "if she doesn't want to see you, you have to respect it. Otherwise you're only making it worse."

"Hmm, well, maybe. I'm sure that's true for some situations," Pierce said, "but we're talking about Britta, here. Britta!" He paused again. "She doesn't know what she wants. That's her whole deal. She was banging you for months, after all." Pierce waggled a finger at Jeff.

Jeff and Troy both winced.

"I really just want to go home and sleep," said Troy.

"It's like two in the afternoon," Pierce pointed out. Troy shrugged.

"Can we talk about something else?" Jeff asked. "Anything? Anything at all?"

"How's your mother?" Pierce asked him.

Jeff cleared his throat. "Seriously, anything else."

"This is bad story construction," Abed announced. Pierce, Troy, and Jeff all turned to him. "I'm sorry, but it is. Jeff said something awful that upset Annie; we don't know what it was. Then he tried to apologize and that somehow made it worse. Lesson is, don't be pushy like that. Meanwhile Troy said nothing that upset Britta but she got upset anyway. He hasn't tried to apologize because he doesn't have anything to say he's sorry about, but if he doesn't get active about it and talk to her then the relationship is over. Lesson is, the squeaky wheel gets the grease. We go through life trying to learn things from television shows and our own experiences, and apply them to the situations we're in, and here we have diametrically opposed morals to simultaneous stories. It's bad plotting."

"I thought you'd be happy about all this," Pierce said.

"I want Troy to be happy. I want Jeff to be happy. I want Annie and Britta to be happy. I want to be happy. This isn't what happy looks like. This is four guys who hate bowling sitting in a bowling alley in the middle of the day, being unhappy."

There was a moment of silence while everyone mulled this over.

"Plus I think you broke the group," Abed said. "That wasn't supposed to happen until endgame, and if this is endgame, then endgame sucks."

* * *

Hours later Troy and Abed were in the living room of their apartment, watching a movie. Or to be more accurate, Abed was watching it and Troy was staring at the screen with unfocused eyes.

As the closing credits rolled, Abed leaned forward. "And that was _Ancient Astro-Nut 2_ ," he declared. Next to him, Troy startled from his reverie. " _Ancient Astro-Nut 3_ was made without Khosrow Ali Vaziri, though, for budget reasons," Abed continued. "So instead I want to skip to _Ancient Astro-Nut 4_ , the only direct-to-VHS installment in the series. It's often called Vaziri's best work, on the web forum I moderate."

"That was kind of weirdly expositional," observed Troy. "But yeah, sure. Whatever."

Abed nodded and rose to change the discs out. As he did so, there was a knock at the front door.

"Did I order pizza and forget about it?" Troy asked.

Abed shook his head without turning around.

"Huh." Troy stood and crossed to the door. He peered through the peephole, then quickly swung the door open.

Britta stood in the hall, framed by the doorway. In her hands she held a cake box. "Cake delivery?" she offered, with a weak and sheepish smile.

"Britta… uh, come in, come in!" Troy said to her, stepping aside and beckoning her.

Britta ducked her head down as she hurried into the apartment. She dropped the cake box on the kitchen table, then sat down in front of it.

"I'm just…" She rested her head in her hands. "God. I'm the worst."

"No, no, no," Troy said. He bent over her and began rubbing the back of her neck. "You're the best. I mean…"

"I don't want to be broken up," she said through her hands. "Why did you let me do that?"

Troy turned to Abed and cleared his throat. "Uh, buddy…"

"It's cool," Abed assured him. "I'll leave you to it." They did their special best-friends handshake, and then Abed was out the door.

Britta looked mortified that Abed had been in the room. "Is Annie here?" she whispered, looking around.

Troy shook his head. "She's gone to bed." He sat down in a kitchen chair next to her.

"I got you a cake." Britta opened the lid of the box. Within was a small white cake, matching the one from the day before. In blue frosting was written _APOLOGY CAKE, IS THAT A THING? I DON'T KNOW. I REALLY SCREWED UP. HE GOT ME A CAKE SO I'M GETTING HIM A CAKE_.

She cleared her throat. "I don't think the bakery understood my instructions about the lettering."

Troy chuckled, and put his arm around her. "It's the best cake," he said. "There's all this extra blue frosting!"

* * *

On the other side of the thin wall separating her room from Troy's, Annie rolled over in bed and flipped on her box fan. The white-noise drone of the fan drowned out the faint sounds of Troy and Britta's reconciliation. At least, it did once she turned the fan up from LOW to MED and then HI.

She lay on her back, alone in the dark, for several minutes, listening to the fan-noise and, under it, the indistinct sounds she could still just barely hear coming through the wall. They might have been watching a movie or something, for all Annie could tell.

Finally she couldn't take it any more. Annie groped for her phone, in the dark, and texted Jeff.

 **ANNIE (CELL) to JEFF (CELL):**

 **Hey**

 **Are you up?**

 **[Question mark emoji]**

The answer came back almost immediately.

 **JEFF (CELL) to ANNIE (CELL):**

 **Yes. What's up?**

Annie looked at the words on her screen for a while. _I'm still mad at you [angry face emoji]_ she typed, then deleted it. Then she typed _I miss you [crying emoji]_ and deleted it, too.

 **ANNIE (CELL) to JEFF (CELL):**

 **I hate this [frowny face emoji]**

Again, the response was almost instantaneous.

 **JEFF (CELL) to ANNIE (CELL):**

 **Me too.**

Annie sighed. _I know you're not always insincere_ , she typed, then deleted it.

 _I know it isn't always just a ploy_.

 _I know what you wanted to say._

 _I was lying when I said I didn't care._

She put the phone down, then picked it up again.

 **ANNIE (CELL) to JEFF (CELL):**

 **Goodnight**

She flipped her phone away before she saw whatever his response was — if she saw it, she was likely to get drawn in and spend half the night texting him.

* * *

Across town Jeff lay in his own bed and stared at his phone.

 **JEFF (CELL) to ANNIE (CELL):**

 **Goodnight**

When she didn't respond immediately, he sighed and set the phone down on the mattress next to him. He was about to turn his lights off and try to sleep, when he heard a knock at his bedroom door.

"Yeah?"

Abed opened his door just enough to stick his head through.

"Is there a problem with the couch?" Jeff asked him. When Abed had appeared at his door, not more than twenty minutes ago, and declared he'd be sleeping on Jeff's couch, Jeff hadn't asked questions. He and Abed shared a special bond, after all.

"The couch is fine. I was looking at your kitchen and you don't have any ramen." He stared accusingly at Jeff for a beat. "I'm going to go buy some. Do you want anything from the twenty-four hour market?"

Jeff shook his head. "I'm good. Thanks, though."

Abed hesitated before closing the door. "I'm glad you're good."


	17. 4a06: Theoretics of Basket-Weaving I

THEORETICS OF BASKET-WEAVING

ACT ONE

(Some notes follow the end of Act 3.)

* * *

The fact of the matter was, Annie had barely seen Jeff for almost two weeks. Their ill-fated day-long date (call it what it was) twelve days before had culminated in heartache and disappointment. Jeff's subsequent attempts to force her to listen to him apologize and defend himself (at least Annie assumed that was what Jeff was trying to do) had culminated in their screaming match in her apartment nearly a week ago. Since then he'd kept a low profile, and so had she.

With the study group no longer meeting regularly, he wasn't that hard to avoid. She saw him once at Shirley's sandwich counter, around nine. She'd spun around and left before he saw her, of course. Since then she'd avoided the cafeteria before noon, and there'd been no more troubles; Jeff was taking his lunches somewhere else, it seemed.

Annie and Jeff's falling out wasn't the sole or even chief reason the study group had stopped meeting: Chang was now teaching Mandatory Historiography entirely via the medium of notices taped to the classroom door. That didn't stop Annie from coming to class anyway; it wasn't as though anyone would be shocked if Chang suddenly swerved in his habits. As the class was at six in the morning, she was one of the only people on campus that early, and so she always saw the notices before anyone else.

"Attention Children! You don't want to learn and I don't want to teach," the latest one read. "But you need a good grade and my plans have fallen through. I need a date to a Halloween party, and also an invitation to a Halloween party. This is a group assignment for the entire class, due by the end of the day tomorrow. Either everyone gets an A or everyone fails. I don't know why I'm pretending I expect anyone besides Annie Edison to work on this. The rest of you should thank her! Or blame her if I'm not satisfied and fail you all. PS No Winger I do not want to date your girlfriend! Get your head out of the gutter! I'm just asking her to pimp out one of her friends. PPS Not Britta or Shirley either! PPPS Actually Shirley would be fine. PPPPS Required extra-credit assignment: one-page essay on breaking up Shirley's marriage."

Annie reddened when she saw the note and its reference to her romantic life in particular. She tugged it down and folded it tightly before she stuffed the notice into her bag. Hopefully no one else had seen it. Chang didn't exactly have his finger on the pulse of current events, she told herself; his information was weeks out of date and presumptuous anyway.

Within, the classroom was, of course, empty. Even Pierce had quit coming last week, when the notes started appearing. Annie didn't especially mind; she treated it as an early-morning study hall, a time to gather her thoughts and review her notes and obsess over stupid notices written by stupid historiography teachers who didn't even know what historiography was.

Jeff had never wanted to be her boyfriend, Annie reminded herself. He'd dragged his feet and denied being attracted to her long after it stopped being cute. Even at the end of what had seemed like a perfect day, he'd balked. Pressed against the wall, he'd been prepared to say anything, sure, but that was only because he hadn't wanted to lose her. Or, no, that was too optimistic and/or generous a way of looking at it. If he hadn't wanted to lose her he'd have taken more positive steps sooner. Probably.

She checked her phone, reviewing the most recent texts.

 **…**

 **…**

 **ANNIE to JEFF, 2258:**

 **Seriously I am going to sleep now I have to get up at quarter past five, goodnight! [Snoring emoji]**

 **=TUESDAY 30 OCTOBER=**

 **JEFF to ANNIE, 0516:**

 **Good morning [sunrise emoji]**

 **ANNIE to JEFF, 0533:**

 **[Sunrise emoji]**

 **What are you doing up?**

 **Did you set up a timer to automatically text me first thing in the morning so that I'd feel obligated to reply to you?**

 **JEFF to ANNIE, 0533:**

 **Would that have worked? Dang!**

 **I set an alarm, I was going to text you and then go back to sleep**

 **JEFF to ANNIE, 0536:**

 **But you took too long to respond**

 **So now I'm up**

She smiled despite herself. It was true that she and Jeff hadn't been in the same room for more than a few seconds since the 'Enchantment Under the Sea' dance the Thursday before last, but they'd been texting back and forth at a steadily increasing rate. At first it had just been a couple of texts during the day and then a couple more at night, and then there were a few more the next day, and a few more the day after that. Yesterday had been one long conversation. And it felt so normal, so infuriatingly normal, to be texting with Jeff like this. Just light banter, the sort of pleasantries and small talk they'd exchanged hundreds of times. It was easier to handle him at a remote distance. Phone Annie and Phone Jeff were the best of buds, totally ignoring the elephant in the relationship.

She owed him a reply.

 **ANNIE to JEFF, 0603:**

 **Use the time well!**

 **Seize the day! [Banner emoji] [cake emoji]**

Annie set her phone down and turned to her notes for class, to review. It took her several minutes to clear her head sufficiently to get into the right mindspace for study, but she was nothing if not good at focusing. Minutes spun by, and then her phone buzzed.

 **JEFF to ANNIE, 0649:**

 **I'm getting coffee**

 **You want coffee?**

She frowned. He wasn't saying he was coming here, was he? She glanced at the door nervously. If he did, she wasn't sure how she'd respond. They'd been talking normally again through texts, but in person was a whole other deal.

Probably that wasn't what he meant.

 **ANNIE to JEFF, 0651:**

 **[Question mark emoji]**

She placed her phone on the center of her desk, on top of her notebook, and stared at it. When it buzzed with a new message, she leaped back, startled.

 **JEFF to ANNIE, 0653:**

 **Too late**

There was a knock at the classroom door a minute later. She spun around, and felt her stomach tighten as she saw him. Jeff stood in the open doorway, one hand holding two coffees from Shirley's in a cardboard tray, the other a fist hovering an inch from the doorframe.

For a second or an hour they stared at one another. Then Jeff cleared his throat, and they both looked away. Annie instinctively covered her face with her hands, which she lowered only slowly.

"Mind if I come in?" Jeff asked. "I brought you coffee. I know you didn't say you wanted any," he continued, "but I figured worst-case scenario I could give it to Pierce and pretend that was the plan all along." He glanced around the empty classroom.

So he hadn't tried to collude with Pierce about this latest plan to talk to her. That was something, at least. "Pierce isn't here. He stopped coming last week."

"Well, there hasn't really been class," Jeff observed, in the sort of tone you use when you're self-consciously critiquing your own small talk.

Seeing that Jeff was still standing in the doorway, she coughed nervously. "You can come in, if you want to."

He nodded, then entered, closing the door behind him. He paused a moment at the door. "I can sit down, too," he decided.

Annie watched as he cautiously approached the seat next to hers which, she remembered, was the one that had been his. He sat and silently offered her one of the cups of coffee.

"Thanks," she said, taking it.

"No problem," he replied.

He took a sip, and she took a sip. In the silence she could hear the second hand of the clock on the wall click, click, click.

"So —" she began, after the wait had become unbearable.

"We —" he began, at the same time. They both broke off, waiting for the other.

"I —" she tried again, when it seemed he wasn't going to speak first after all.

"You —" he said, at the same time.

Jeff smiled sheepishly, and like that, the tension was broken.

"It's fine, it's fine. We are killing this," Annie assured him solemnly. Reflexively she reached out and put her hand on his. Realizing what she'd done, she gave it a quick squeeze, then pulled her hand back.

The best word for how he looked, she decided, smiling and bashful like that, was _adorable_.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. You go first."

"Maybe you should go first," she suggested, "since you showed up here and all."

"On the contrary," he replied. "It's been brought to my attention that on the one hand it's important to speak honestly, but on the other hand it's also important to listen, so, behold as I display both skills: I honestly would rather listen."

Annie sighed. "That makes sense, I _guess_. I was going to say, I suppose I owe you an apology. I'm sorry I didn't respond better when you were harassing me." She considered what she'd just said. "That's not a sentence I was planning on saying this morning."

"And I owe you an apology for, uh, lying to you and myself. But the important thing is, I forgive you?" Jeff offered.

She raised an eyebrow, knowing he wasn't serious. "That's what you came in here armed with? Forgiveness? That was your plan?"

Jeff shrugged. "Step one was talking you into letting me in, step two was getting rid of Pierce, step three was getting you to accept the coffee and thus establish a rapport, step four was getting a conversation going… I think I can be forgiven for not having a fifth step planned out in advance. I came up with the first four on the way over here; that's more work before seven than I usually do all day."

"Really," she said. "You just impulsively decided to come here and talk, after I threw you out of my apartment last Wednesday? After we've been avoiding each other for a week? The ladies and gentlemen of the jury are expected to buy that?"

Jeff waggled his phone at her. "Someone told me to 'seize the day flag birthday cake.' It seemed like good advice."

"Well then. I concede your wisdom in deciding to defer to my wisdom," Annie said carefully.

There was a pause that threatened to become another protracted silence. The second hand on the clock went click, click.

"So where does that put us?" Jeff asked softly.

"I don't know," Annie admitted. "This isn't familiar territory for me, you know."

"Me neither."

She chuckled. That seemed unlikely, given Jeff's history of romantic conquests. "I'm pretty sure you've been, I mean, unless you're going to suddenly reverse yourself, or accuse me of imagining things, or…" Annie trailed off, seeing the pained look in his eyes.

He reached across the aisle and took her hand in his. "I am one hundred percent committed to… whatever we're doing here. Okay," he said, "the first half of that sentence was a lot stronger than the second, I admit that."

"What are we doing here, Jeff?" Annie asked him. She drew her hand back.

"If I'm cautious, it's just because I don't want to screw this up."

"Is it that fragile? I mean, the past few weeks aside, we've been friends for awhile. Close friends, even." Annie looked down at her desktop, and the coffee slowly cooling. She tried to think of a less pathetic way to say _I know you didn't drag your feet this much when you were sleeping with Britta. Can't you show some enthusiasm for the idea of me? Of us?_

"This is different," Jeff said slowly. "This is different than it's been. This couldn't be… this isn't casual, or disposable. We could never be casual. I don't want to not have you in my life because I screwed this up, even less than because you moved to Virginia, or New York or LA, or Paris, or whatever you eventually choose. You move away, maybe you'll eventually come back, or I could visit, or… I don't know."

She tilted her head skeptically. "So… _because_ I'm so important to you, you just… crudely propositioned me?"

"Crudely and propositioned is a very ugly way of putting it," Jeff said defensively.

"I just wanted some… needed some reassurance. It was a big deal for me."

"It was, this _is_ , a big deal for me too!" Jeff declared. "If you look at the context the whole day, obviously I didn't want to ruin anything so instead of trying out something completely new and untested, I fell back on proven methods."

"Proven methods which in this case collapsed completely under the pressure," Annie pointed out. "Do you think it's my fault? Am I unreasonable in my expectations?"

"No! Maybe a little. I mean, I'm here now, aren't I? We're having this conversation, aren't we? We're talking about it, finally, which by the way is what I tried to do fully a week ago!" Jeff had begun to raise his voice.

"I was angry!" Annie cried, raising her own voice. "Justifiably I might add, as you have already conceded, when you apologized, finally, for what you said! Which you certainly weren't doing at the time!"

"Well if you had let me get a word out, maybe I would have! I seem to remember having to shout at you through Pierce and the door, and I _was_ apologizing!" Jeff retorted. He leaned across the aisle towards her and almost snarled. "And now I'm wondering if I'm going to have to keep apologizing for the rest of my life!"

Annie decided to table examining just what he meant by 'the rest of his life.' Instead she matched him, lean for lean and snarl for snarl. "Actions speak louder," she said, low and menacing. "Words are cheap."

Their faces were perhaps two inches apart.

"I'm here now," Jeff said firmly.

"So what are you going to do?" Annie asked him.

"What I should have done a long time ago," he growled.

"Just try it."

They looked one another hard in the eye, each refusing to back down.

* * *

Later they would each claim the other was the one who blinked first — 'blinked,' in this case, being a euphemism for 'violently kissed, and began tearing clothing off of, the other person.' Regardless of who was first, once they started, the other responded in kind.

END ACT ONE


	18. 4a06: Theoretics of Basket-Weaving II

THEORETICS OF BASKET-WEAVING

ACT TWO

* * *

The Historiography classroom looked like it had been the scene of a small riot. Chairs were overturned and papers strewn randomly about. Chalk and dry-erase markers rolled loose on the floor.

Jeff and Annie were in the corner furthest from the door. Jeff sat crosslegged, leaning against the wall, Annie snuggled in his lap. His arms were around her, her hands were on him. His shirt was untucked and his pants unbuttoned; her sweater was a crumpled ball abandoned on the floor. His belt had landed somewhere near the back of the class.

They pressed together in the corner without speaking, for some time, feeling one another's presence. Eventually Annie's phone began to chirp, and she returned, reluctantly, to reality. _That just happened_ , she thought. _That was a thing that happened._

Historiography had, notionally, ended. Annie had almost two hours until her next class, but more importantly, this classroom would be home to Theoretics of Basket-Weaving in about twenty minutes.

"My alarm," she explained to Jeff, in case he wondered about the sound. "It's quarter to eight; there's a class in here in…" How long? Not long. Someone who was running even a few minutes early could appear at any moment. "We're lucky nobody…" Annie had started to say _we're lucky nobody came in on us_ but then she took in the amount of damage they'd done to the room. It hadn't seemed that chaotic. "We're lucky nobody heard anything."

* * *

Jeff rose more languidly. He had a smile on his face as he watched Annie dash around the room, righting tipped-over furniture and gathering spilled chalk. If nothing else, at least he could assert with confidence that he and Annie were compatible on a physical level. He wasn't sure whether they'd settled anything, exactly, but right then he didn't much care.

He cleared his throat. Watching Annie, still rumpled from lovemaking, clean up the evidence of their activity: super hot. Jeff felt like a switch had been flipped in his brain, or… no. Jeff felt like for years he'd been tamping down on something, shoving it back and hiding it under the metaphorical carpeting. And now, after spending months working up the courage to examine the latch on the cupboard door behind which he'd directed the torrent, he'd ripped all the bonds asunder and was standing exultant in the full hot rush of the pent-up geyser that was… that was a metaphor that was getting away from him. He felt lightheaded, almost drunk; he'd been hyperventilating slightly.

Also, Annie was looking at him expectantly. "Jeff!"

"Hm?" Jeff smiled more warmly than he had in months. The urge seized him to take her up in his arms and hold her, kiss her, pet her, dance with her… he took a step towards her.

Annie looked up. "Help me clean up," she ordered.

* * *

They didn't have long until someone came in and wondered aloud why they were alone in a room where two people had obviously just now gone to town on one another.

Jeff grinned, like he knew what she was thinking. "Is that all you have to say?" he asked.

"Jeff!" There really wasn't time to waste.

He seemed to realize that she wasn't, in fact, going to grab him and climb him like a tree or haul him down to the ground where she could reach him properly. Not right then, anyway. He clucked his tongue in apparent disappointment. "Of course, milady."

Annie felt herself melt a bit — of all the terms of endearment anyone had ever used to address her, that one was her favorite. It was like a little private in-joke between them. "Thank you, milord," she said shyly.

He knelt to help her gather the papers that had unaccountably fallen from her desktop to the floor. "We kind of did a number on your notes," he observed. One sheet of paper in particular caught his eye — the notice from Chang.

Annie's heart sank as she recalled what Chang had written about them. Jeff would see it, and he'd panic, and get defensive, and then she'd try to deal with that, and then they'd have a fight, and then… whatever came after that wouldn't be pretty or fun.

"Did you see this?" he asked, as though she might not have noticed it.

For a moment she considered lying. If it would have staved off the inevitable, she would have in a heartbeat, she realized. Her certainty in that surprised her, a bit. However lying wouldn't solve anything. "Yes."

"You know," he began, and she braced herself, "this was typed on a word processor and then printed out. He could have just deleted Shirley's name."

Annie boggled. Was he toying with her? Had he skipped the first postscript for some weird Jeff-reason about maximum comprehension for minimum time spent actually reading? Was he just… fine with it? With Chang saying they were a couple? "That's true," she managed to say.

Jeff seemed to notice she was halfway through the process of driving herself mad. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she said quickly. Why pick a fight when you can just go around it, right? She told herself that there was no reason to draw attention to it. "No, no no. Well…" On the other hand, this was a fight they were going to have sooner or later. Best to get it out of the way now. If their nascent relationship wasn't going to survive it, the less time they wasted… "Chang calls you my boyfriend," Annie admitted. She pointed to the postscript. "Well, actually he calls me your girlfriend. I suppose that isn't exactly the same, but, you know." She shrugged, as if to say _but who cares what Chang thinks about anything?_

Jeff looked at the notice for long enough for Annie finish the process of going insane, rehabilitate herself, learn to feel normal emotions once more, and then go crazy all over again. "Well," he said slowly. "I admit this isn't how I wanted you to find out."

Her heart sank. So that was it. Jeff wasn't keen on disappointing her, particularly, but that by itself wasn't enough to make him want to stay with her. Not that she'd want him, if some sense of duty were the only thing keeping him around…

Then she saw the way he was smiling at her, and realized that no, he was making a joke. "So is that what we're doing, then?" she asked, hoping that her need for clarification and confirmation didn't sound overtly desperate.

* * *

"I guess it is." Jeff held up the notice. "I mean, I'm not about to argue with Chang. The man's dangerously psychotic, which would make him an expert on romance."

She looked at him quizzically.

"Because, heh, well." He suddenly felt self-conscious, and looked around to confirm that there weren't a bunch of gawkers peering in at them. "So, yeah. Yes. I want to be your boyfriend."

She nodded in the way that Jeff recognized as smugly self-satisfied. "Okay then. Your application has been logged and is under review." Annie sat on the instructor's desk at the front of the room and smoothed her rumpled skirt.

Jeff walked up to her, right into her personal space, not stopping until he loomed and she had her neck tilted all the way back to look him in the eye. "Well?"

"The review process —" Annie started, but Jeff muffled her with a kiss. He felt her legs lock around him as his hands dug into her shoulders and back. It was some time before she pulled back. "The review process has been expedited," she said breathlessly. "Congratulations. Welcome aboard." She made a face. "Ew, that sounded gross as soon as I said it. Forget I said that part."

"Okay," Jeff said, and kissed her some more. She wriggled delightfully in his arms. Why, he wondered, had he ever denied himself this? The Jeff of two weeks ago was a fool.

"Mmm!" Annie broke away from the kiss. "What do we tell people?"

Jeff wouldn't let her go. "That the greatest man they know has finally claimed the greatest woman? That today shall be declared a holiday throughout the land? That soon a new generation of golden super-children will arise to claim their place as leaders of humanity?"

She giggled, then sobered. "Wait, what? Jeff?"

 _Crap_ , Jeff thought, as Annie leaned backward and slid out of his arms. _Crap crap crap_. Annie was a feminist, after all. "I was speaking without thinking. We can tell them you claimed me, if you want…?"

* * *

It was the implications of _golden super-children_ that she was struggling with. Of course — she should have seen this one coming, really. He was more than twelve years older than she was. Obviously he'd want to start a family, have kids before he was forty. Annie wasn't certain about a lot of things, but she was definitely sure she didn't want a baby any time soon, or even any time soon plus nine months. She wasn't even sure whether she'd be any good at it; her own mother hadn't been the best example.

…Wait, what? Annie rewound the conversation in her head as her brain belatedly caught up to her ears. She realized Jeff had gotten caught up on the wrong extravagant claim. Maybe kids weren't a priority for him right now, she thought hopefully. Maybe they could compromise about it. "I mean, I want kids _someday_ , absolutely. Probably. Maybe."

"Oh!" Jeff said, understanding. He stammered for a bit.

But not right now, Annie thought, and there were a lot of hoops she wanted to jump through first. She struggled to think how best to convey it to him. "I'm not saying I don't ever want kids, but I'm only twenty-one and there are years before that's what I want to be doing." Annie sighed. This seemed like the kind of problem couples had in year three, or six, not during the first hour. Why was this coming up so quickly? There were all these roadblocks, issues, any one of which could sink them… "Why are we even having this discussion?" she asked Jeff, and herself. "Why are we talking about this now?"

* * *

Jeff held her close, as she pressed her head against his chest. "I think… because we're both worried that this is going to explode on the launchpad?" This was an understatement, he figured, but _worried_ sounded better than _resigned to the fact that_. "There are a million things that couples eventually break up over, and we're just running down the list trying to find one that will fit, because we think it'll happen eventually, anyway."

"Uh-huh," she said softly. "Okay. How do we fix that?" She slipped out of his arms again and unwrapped her legs from around his hips. Jeff watched her, bemused with the way she was constantly adjusting her skirt to keep it within some range of acceptable positions the parameters of which only she knew, until she cleared her throat at him. "Excuse me?" She gave his torso a little shove backwards.

Jeff obligingly stepped backwards, but grabbed her hand with his, holding it on his chest. "We could make out more," he suggested. Their eyes met and then Jeff realized there was no reason he _couldn't_ just grab her and bend down and kiss her.

"Okay," she said, a moment later. "Okay!" She twisted out of his grip and went skipping across the room, to her backpack. "What we do is, step one, we make a list." She pulled the notebook she'd stowed only minutes ago back out and flipped it open. "Step one, make a list," she repeated, and wrote that down.

Jeff approached her. "Is that step one for everything?"

"Most things," she said without looking up. "Step two, we agree to some principles…" Annie's words turned to whimpers as Jeff nibbled the back of her neck, which she'd more or less exposed by looking down at the tabletop in front of her to write, after all.

* * *

Some time passed – a minute? Several weeks? Fifteen seconds? There was no way to tell. As Jeff finally released her she considered saying something like _you're just enjoying toying with me like this_ but that seemed self-evident. Instead she just snuggled up against him. "First, we should keep this just between us, at least for right now."

"Absolutely," Jeff said readily. "We've got our hands full without trying to wrangle other people's expectations. Shirley, Pierce…"

"Abed," said Annie, remembering their Dreamatorium escapade through her romantic fantasies. Of course, she knew the actual Jeff Winger a lot better now than she had even a year ago, much less at the end of their first year.

"We don't tell anybody," Jeff declared. "That's easy, because it involves _not_ doing something, and _not_ doing something is always easier than doing anything." He petted her arm absently. "What else can we do?"

Annie wracked her brain. "What if…" Jeff was a lawyer; he could draw up a binding relationship contract. "No, that's stupid," she muttered, glad she hadn't said it out loud. What they needed was some way to establish a safety net, a guarantee from and for each of them that however fragile their couplehood was, it wouldn't melt unless they were both ready for it to. "What if we agreed to a fixed term? One week from today, we decide if we want to keep being a couple, bring up grievances and stuff, talk about the week. No matter what happens before then, the relationship is secure until the next weekly meeting."

Jeff made a disapproving sound. "That really feels like setting ourselves up for failure."

"Well, first off, there are no bad ideas in brainstorming. Secondly, I'm not hearing anything from you," Annie retorted. "I'm at least trying, here."

He sighed. "I know you are, and I applaud the sentiment. But really I think all we need to do is, both of us agree that when I do something boneheaded and thoughtless…"

"When, not if, that sounds right," Annie said teasingly.

"… you'll at least give me a chance to defend myself before you rake me over the coals." He smiled at her and she smiled back.

"Well, that sounds reasonable. And, for my part, if I ever fail to live up to the expectations you place in me, I hope you'll tell me so. Give me a chance to correct, don't just resign yourself to whatever screeching harpy or cow or shrew or…" She realized she'd made her point. "You know, there are a lot of derogatory words for women in English."

* * *

Jeff smiled at that. "I think we've demonstrated over the last few years that the only force that can possibly stand against us is one another."

She snorted. "Well, I've been taking that for granted." Her eyes sparked and Jeff felt an urge to kiss her which, gloriously, he could find no reason not to indulge…

Slow, ponderous clapping suddenly filled his ears. "Okay! We get it! You're in love!" someone cried. "Blah blah golden super-children! We get it!"

Jeff pulled away from Annie and realized that the back of the classroom had filled with… whatever class was scheduled for the room now. Vicki, in front, was the one who'd been applauding.

"I forgot about Theoretics of Basket-Weaving," Annie whispered to him, her face pale. "How long have they been in here?"

"I don't know," he whispered back.

"Minutes," answered Vicki. "Literal minutes I've been standing here. Jeez, you guys are oblivious. This is why we're not friends," she told Annie. "I mean, congratulations on finally screwing, but not everything is about you two, you know."

She had her phone out, Jeff realized. "Excuse me, Vicki," he began. "Could you… we'd like to keep this quiet."

"Shouldn't have made out in a classroom then," Vicki said without looking up. "That one's on you. Group text and… sent!"

"Five, four, three, two…" Jeff heard Annie murmur. Then both their phones began to explode.

* * *

END ACT TWO


	19. 4a06: Theoretics of Basket-Weaving III

THEORETICS OF BASKET-WEAVING

ACT THREE

* * *

Facing them — Abed, Troy, Britta, Pierce, and Shirley — wasn't so bad.

It wasn't great, but it wasn't _so_ bad.

But it wasn't great.

Jeff found Annie in his car, in the passenger seat. There were only so many places she might have fled to, when she bolted from the study room, and her preferred women's restroom had been in the opposite direction from the way she'd run. Plus he found he didn't have his keys, which meant she must have picked them up by mistake when they were cleaning up. Without pausing he opened the driver's-side door and climbed in.

She didn't acknowledge him immediately, so he just sat and watched her as she stared resolutely ahead. Finally she glanced his way, and cleared her throat apologetically. "Somebody else might have handled that better," she said slowly.

"I'm just surprised it wasn't me. I was about ten seconds from bolting," he assured her.

She scoffed. "Please. They'd forgive you anything."

"Not even!" Jeff reached out and held her arm. "I'm the guy who ought to know better than to toy with the heart of everyone's favorite. I'm older, supposedly wiser… if this goes south everyone will know it's my fault."

"I don't think so," Annie said. "I've worked hard to convince everyone that I can do anything, haven't I? Annie Edison doesn't mess things up. Chang told me to get him a date for tonight, remember? Me, specifically. I mean, he's crazy, but still. If this goes south it'll be my fault for biting off more than I can chew."

Jeff shook his head. "I'm pretty sure society has a pretty solid script for when the guy and the girl half his age break up, and which one is the fool."

"Half your…? Twelve years, Jeff. I'm two-thirds your age," she reminded him.

He shrugged. "Whatever."

"In thirty years I'll be four-fifths your age," she recited. "In fifty years I'll be seventeen-twentieths your age. If you live to be a hundred, I'll be eighty-eight percent of your age, which is twenty-two twenty-fifths."

Jeff looked at her in amazement. "Are you a lightning calculator and I didn't know it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, I did all this math a long time ago. Back when we met and I didn't really know you."

Jeff laughed, nervously, suddenly uncomfortable.

"I know you now, though, you know?" Annie's tone was thoughtful. "You used to act like you were too cool to do anything, even though you were so cool you could do anything, and at first I thought there was… that I could take you and fix you. You'd do things for me, just because I asked. I thought I could make you into someone better, who would love me and never hurt me or leave me. But I didn't. I couldn't. I realized, eventually, that that wasn't possible."

Jeff cleared his throat, unsure what to say.

"Because that's who you were the whole time," Annie continued. "Well," she added, "you could hurt me, sure. But… you said once that I was your conscience, do you remember that?"

He shook his head.

"But I'm not. I'm just somebody who sees that you do have a heart. You're your own conscience, no matter how much you deny it."

"That may be," Jeff said. He fumbled for the right words. "But you make my conscience impossible to ignore."

She seemed unconvinced. "Maybe…"

"No maybe about it," he asserted. "For almost as long as I've known you, you've… I know it sounds trite, but you've made me want to be better than I am. More than that, you've made me think that I am better than I used to think I was, or that I can be better than that. It's like… it's like Superman and Lois Lane."

Annie raised an eyebrow. "Lois Lane? Really? Ooh!" she snickered. "Which of us is the superhero, and which of us is the mouthy brunette he lies to all the time, and who he has to rescue from monsters?"

Jeff squeezed her arm and smiled. "In the comics, Lois is Superman's wife. She's this incredible woman. She's smarter than he is, and she's a better reporter. And she knows how good he can be and when he isn't that good she calls him on it. Because she knows him."

She sighed. "Would Lois Lane have panicked and run in the face of that? I mean, I was kind of expecting…"

"Pitchforks and torches?" Jeff suggested.

"Well, yeah. But everybody was just so… unsurprised. I mean, the last thing that happened before I ran, was Shirley asked me what we had planned to celebrate?"

"Hey," Jeff said, "Shirley was being really pushy."

Annie shook her head. "She wasn't. She was just being Shirley. I shouldn't have run like that. I mean, obviously. I felt like I wasn't the one making the choice, like I was watching myself do it." She scowled. "No, that's not right. I knew what I was doing, I just couldn't… I panicked. I panicked and I ran."

"Well," Jeff said, "I wouldn't know what that's like."

"I guess panicking and running from them reminded me that sometimes… sometimes you panic and run. Not because you don't care what happens, but because you do care, so much. Sometimes things are scary, and they're scary because you're stepping out of your comfort zone and trusting other people to support you. Even if the support you need is just them not actively insulting you, that's still something, and that's scary. It's scary to depend on other people. It's scary to open yourself up to be hurt. That's why I wanted you on my terms, for so long. That's why I stopped you, that night." Annie shifted her position, trying to lean up against him and rest her head on his chest, but the center console separating the two seats made it impossible without getting up out of her seat entirely. So she did, sliding up onto the console; she ended up half in his lap, but Jeff didn't protest.

Instead he slid his arm around her. "You wanted me to say… actually, I'm still not a hundred percent clear on what exactly you wanted me to say," Jeff said. "I do regret saying what I did, though," he added quickly.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I wanted… in that moment, I needed to feel a little bit of control. Like, to reassure myself that what was happening was actually happening, that it wasn't the universe in general or you in particular playing a cruel trick on me. If I just hadn't said anything…"

"If you hadn't said anything, we would have ended up in a supply closet or a classroom, making out." Jeff had given it a fair bit of thought over the weeks since then.

She chuckled. "Yeah."

His arm around her tightened. "Once we got the initial flush out of our system, we'd have a long talk and at some point you'd get all big-eyed and shyly ask if you should refer to me as your boyfriend, or maybe you'd be sly about it and try to trick me into saying it first…"

"That sounds about right. So really all that happened was we got delayed by a couple of weeks." Annie smiled a little at that.

Jeff's hand brushed her cheek. "So," he said. "This would be a great time to leave campus. We're already in a car and our well-meaning friends are probably going to eventually find us otherwise."

Annie's smile widened a bit. "I do have class in… maybe twenty minutes? What time is it?"

Jeff started the car, so the clock on the dashboard lit up. "Last week was mid-terms," he pointed out. "So whatever new material is going to be covered today, it's going to be reviewed the most times out of all the material that'll be on the final. Ergo today's are the most skippable of classes."

"Not remotely," Annie said in correction. "Today's are the classes that will lay groundwork for the rest of the semester. If you miss today's classes you might as well just drop out!"

"It's not even ten," Jeff pointed out. "Usually I'm still asleep right now. We could take the whole day, and get out of here."

"Hmm." She was unconvinced. "We already did that once, and look how it went…"

"Exactly!" Jeff cried, as though she'd fallen into his rhetorical trap. "This would be a chance to do it right!"

* * *

"What are they doing?" Britta asked Troy. They stood, with Abed, Shirley, and Pierce, on the steps of the library. "No!" she hissed when he started towards Jeff's parked car, clearly visible a few dozen yards away. "Don't get any closer! They'll see us!"

"I don't think there's any risk of that," Pierce observed. "She's in his lap."

"She's in his lap?" Shirley craned her neck, trying to see without moving from the steps. "On a weekday morning?"

"Is it more sinful on a weekday morning?" Abed asked her.

She shook her head. "It's just, who has the energy?"

"Well, that settles that," Troy said, as he watched Jeff's car back out of its spot and leave the parking lot. "Who had today in the pool? Abed?"

Abed shook his head as Britta pulled out a folded sheet of paper. "Today's Tuesday the 30th, right?" She scanned the names and dates on the sheet. "Oh," she said, disappointed. "Chang."

Everyone groaned.

* * *

END OF ACT THREE

I'd like to thank Amrywiol and Bethanyactually for their commentary and editing. I'd also like to thank everyone who has favorited, followed, or reviewed this story; I'm insecure enough that these small particles of approval mean a lot to me.

 _Jeff Winger and Annie Edison will return in_

 _CHESS ENDGAMES I: KING AND PAWNS_


	20. 4a07: Endgames I King and Pawns I

ENDGAMES I: KING AND PAWNS

ACT ONE

* * *

Early morning at Greendale was, traditionally, quiet and restful. Few students were on campus, and those who were present might well be making out in an otherwise-empty classroom. That was how Jeff and Annie had been starting their days for several days, enjoying the quiet and the honeymoon phase. However, on that Friday Chang posted a notice declaring that attendance at next week's classes would be mandatory, so now, the Monday after Halloween, the Historiography classroom was packed and they were obliged to sit silently and endure Chang's ranting without so much as held hands.

"Buenos dias, children!" Chang sneered at the class. "I know you're all wondering, 'why did Chang decide to start holding classes again?' 'What can he be thinking?' He's so inscrutable!' Ooh!" He pantomimed stroking a long Confucian beard. "Well, racists, somebody was too busy with her personal life to bother to remember _my_ personal life. Halloween came and went and I was stuck at home in a hot dog costume with nowhere to show it off and no one to show it off to! I spent three days camped at an adult bookstore, until they finally accepted the return just to be rid of me. So let's all give Annie Edison a big hand for thinking Jeff Winger is more important to her than I am, and for forcing us to all to get out of bed at an evil hour." He applauded, sarcastically, and glared at the class until a few students joined in.

"Hey!" Jeff cried out, as Annie sunk in her seat. "Not cool!"

"Jeff's right," rumbled Pierce from the back row. "It's his fault just as much as hers. We should be blaming both of them equally."

"No, I think Annie does deserve more of the blame," Shirley said thoughtfully.

Annie half-turned her head and shot Shirley an aghast look. "Shirley!" she stage-whispered.

"After all," Shirley said mildly, "you're the one who pulled down Chang's notice so no one else could see it. None of the rest of us even found out about it until after Halloween was over and you were telling us the story."

"You wouldn't want to have seen it anyway," Annie retorted. "'Ooh I'm Chang and I demand Annie set me up with Shirley, make it happen, duh duh duh,'" she said in an exaggerated idiot voice that, to be fair, sounded nothing like Chang. "That's what it said."

Shirley straightened up slightly in her chair. True, she was fairly happily married. Nevertheless, she was pleased to be reminded that there was at least one man at Greendale who wasn't intimidated by her sexuality, even if that man was Chang.

"People, please," said Pierce. He made a simmer-down hand gesture. "We're getting off track. What we should be discussing is how to punish Jeff for rocking the boat and making everyone get up early again."

"Have you ever noticed," Britta muttered to Abed next to her, "how for weeks now it seems like every conversation we have is about Jeff and Annie?"

Abed looked at her, saying nothing.

"Troy and I are plenty disruptive, too," Britta muttered to herself.

Meanwhile Chang struggled to restore a semblance of order. "Children!" he shouted.

"I'm older than you!" Leonard called back.

"Shut up, Leonard! Of course you're older than me, you were here when the angel Moroni was leading the Nephites," retorted Chang. He glowered as the class exchanged confused looks. "Jesus Christ, read the Book of Mormon sometime, people! It's the true history of the North American continent!"

Pierce cleared his throat. "If we can get back to the main business at hand?"

"Which is?" Chang asked, genuinely curious.

"Historiography!" Annie called, her hands cupped around her mouth like a megaphone.

"Oh, right." Chang nodded. "Historiography... Here we are, more than halfway through the semester, and I bet some of you still don't even know what historiography even is. Don't deny it, your ignorance is written all over your smug little faces. I want each and every one of you to write a ten thousand word essay… no, I'm going to have to read these… a one thousand word essay on the topic 'What is Historiography,' question mark. Yeah, that's right! Chang's back and he's handing out essay assignments! Bet you wish you were home in bed now!"

"We already wished that," Britta complained.

"And you better not just copy and paste the historiography article on Wikipedia, because I have already done that and you would be plagiarizing from the syllabus," Chang warned them.

"Weren't you going to just punish Jeff and Annie?" asked Vicki. She turned to them. "Nothing personal, guys, but I don't want to write an essay."

"As the duly self-appointed Vice-Chancellor-in-Residence of Greendale Community College, I forbid you from singling out Annie for special punishment," Pierce declared. "If you're going to punish someone, punish Jeffrey."

Annie turned in her seat and gave Pierce a pleading look on Jeff's behalf.

"Oh, fine," he said. "No special punishment for Jeff, either."

Shirley's purse emitted a loud buzz. She pulled out her phone and quickly silenced it. "I have cookies in the oven, can I be excused?"

"Are they cookies to soften the blow when you leave your husband for me?" Chang asked hopefully.

"No," Shirley said flatly. "Is sexually harassing me going to be your new thing? Because I'm sorry, but I don't find that funny. Once was cute, but I'm drawing the line at a second mention."

"It could be your new thing, too," Chang suggested. "I mean, the three kids, the baking, the small independent business, and the Christian stuff? That's all played out. You obviously need a new hook."

"No," Shirley repeated.

Chang rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Go."

"Do you want me to get you a restraining order?" Jeff suggested as Shirley got up to leave.

Vicki tugged his sleeve. "Could you get everyone a restraining order, or is that just for your little clique?"

"You want a restraining order against Chang?" he asked.

"Oh, would it just be against Chang?" Vicki was disappointed. "I was thinking, like, I could repel everybody."

"You already repel everybody!" cried Pierce. "Eh? Eh?" He held up his hand for a high-five from Troy, seated in front of him. "Eh?"

Troy just shook his head.

"Well, that's enough Chang truths laid down for today," Chang said. "Shirley's gone, so, who am I going to impress? Class dismissed."

"But you didn't actually lecture us at all," Annie protested as the rest of the class rose. "I thought you would at least use the lesson plan I gave you last month."

"Life's full of disappointments, Annie," Chang told her. "I thought by this time I'd either be generalissimo of a Latin American country or else playing keytar for the E Street band. Instead I'm here, _not_ dressed as a hot dog."

"Okay, okay, come on, everybody, let's get this over with." Jeff gestured to Britta, Troy, and the others, as the class filed out.

"Get this over with?" repeated Annie.

"We have six thousand pointless words to pointless write, and we're all awake," Jeff said, as if this were all self-evident. "So let's go to the study room and get it done so I can spend the rest of the day doing important things, like my girlfriend."

She gasped. "Ew, gross!"

"Annie," he reminded her, "you're my girlfriend, in this scenario. And in real life."

"I know that! That's still a really gross way of putting it." She looked away quickly and ducked her head down so he wouldn't see the big stupid grin on her face.

Britta shook her head as the group transitioned from the classroom to the hallway, Annie hanging on Jeff's arm. "When I was a kid I had a cat that wasn't spayed, and every time she went into heat she'd get all slutty and yowl. I'd have to squirt her with a water bottle to get her to stop."

"In my imagination the part of your cat is played by Eartha Kitt," Pierce announced.

Britta ignored him. "I can get a water pistol if I have to," she warned Jeff.

Out of deference to Britta's protests, Annie unwrapped from around Jeff. "I'll go tell Shirley we moved to the study room," she said, and winked at Jeff before turning and walking — almost skipping — away.

He watched her go and had, for all practical purposes, big cartoon hearts coming out of his eyes.

"So, is the plan to get Annie to write an essay, and then we all copy her paper while recasting the sentences into our own authorial voices?" Troy asked.

"Yes," said Britta.

"Yeah," said Abed.

"I just assumed that was what you were going to do," said Pierce.

"No!" Jeff said. "Because that would be plagiarism and academic misconduct and I am sure as hell getting my degree in May. I've managed to get this close to the bar association restoring my standing, I'm not about to put that at risk, and that is my official position on the subject. The plan is to discuss the assignment in an open salon, raising the level of discourse among ourselves and examining the issues that will permit us to each, individually, write the best papers." He winked.

"Did you just wink, or did you blink and I only saw half of it?" Abed asked him.

"Definitely not a wink," said Jeff. He winked again.

"La la la!" Pierce covered his ears. "La la la, as a school board member I obviously can't condone plagiarism."

"It's not plagiarism," Jeff assured him. "It's teamwork. No, better than teamwork. It's synergy."

* * *

"Jeff, what you're describing is plagiarism," Annie told him. "I'm surprised and disappointed… I'm disappointed," she amended.

The study group, Shirley and Annie included, had assembled in their usual room, seated around their usual table. The only difference since their last meeting, weeks prior, was that Jeff had slid over one seat to be closer to Annie.

"It's only plagiarism if you fail to credit the original source," he pointed out. "If my paper includes your paper in its bibliography…" He trailed off as she shook her head firmly at him.

"You can write a thousand word essay," Annie told him. She leaned over and grabbed his knee, which was in grabbing range thanks to his seating shift. "I believe in you."

"Damn it, my kryptonite," said Jeff, giving up. He sighed. "Why'd you have to go and say you believe in me?"

She bobbed her head in a self-satisfied manner. "Can't help it."

He smiled at her and she smiled at him and then several crumpled-up balls of paper hit them both.

"Oh my God, stop it!" cried Troy, as he, Britta, Abed, Shirley, and Pierce threw more balls.

"I didn't think anything would be worse than the way you two were dancing around each other all September," declared Shirley. "And I love love, you know that. But you two are being the worst right now. Why can't you be more like Britta and Troy? They give off so little sexual heat it's no wonder Abed doesn't feel threatened."

"Hey!" protested Britta.

"Wait, are Britta and Troy dating?" Pierce asked. "Huh." He thought a moment, then turned to Shirley and opened his mouth to ask her a question.

"No," she told him preemptively.

Annie straightened in her seat. "Jeff and I just got together," she reminded everyone. "There's bound to be a period of adjustment, but then things will be right back to normal. And it's not like we're making out in front of you guys."

"No, you saved that for Basketweaving. Hey-oh!" Pierce raised a hand for Troy to high-five. "Eh?"

Troy shook his head.

"You two are holding hands under the table right now," Abed pointed out.

Jeff and Annie guiltily lifted their clasped hands above the table and rested them, apart, in plain view.

"I thought I was okay with this development," Abed continued. "The arc of your relationship has been clear for the last year and a half, at least. But I can see now that pairing Jeff up with Annie puts a strain on the group dynamic that wasn't present when Britta and Troy began dating, or when Britta and Jeff were sleeping together."

Jeff, Annie, Britta, and Troy all winced at the reminder of Jeff and Britta's affair. Abed didn't seem to notice.

"For multiple story arcs now," he said, "perhaps going back all the way to the formation, Jeff and Annie have been focused on one another more than on other members of this study group. Now that they're romantically linked that's even more true. It begins to seem inevitable that they'll spin off, by which I mean they'll drop out of the group entirely. At that point the group will cease to exist, and we'll all stop being friends. I thought we would last until the end of the school year, and that the shared experience of bachelor's degrees for at least four of us could help us transition, together, into whatever the future holds. But then this happened, and now the group is splintering prematurely, and our collective friendship is doomed." Abed's face tightened. "It's finally happened. This is endgame, and they're the endgame couple."

"Nobody ask him what he means," Jeff said, before anyone could.

"I feel like I just explained it pretty clearly," Abed said. "Now, if you'll all excuse me," he continued, rising, "I'm going to go for a long thoughtful walk underscored by melancholy alt-pop." He walked to the doorway, and paused. "Troy and Britta are welcome to join me," he said, before leaving.

Everyone still at the table exchanged nervous glances.

"I feel like I should go after him," Troy said. He had a sheepish grin as he rose and exited.

"And Britta!" declared Britta, who followed him out.

Annie caught Jeff's eye, or maybe they'd just been looking at one another this whole time. Okay, definitely they'd just been looking at one another this whole time. "Do you think we should go after him, or…?"

"Honestly I think they have it," Jeff assured her.

"You're probably right." Annie sighed, and turned back to her notes. "You're a terrible influence on me," she said without looking up. "'Annie, it's right after midterms, let's skip class.' 'Annie, it's late, stay over.' 'Annie, Troy's got it, don't go run down Abed even though he's one of your best friends, and the only person you ever talked to about…'" She looked up. "I should go after him."

Jeff shook his head. "Troy does indeed got it. And he already has Britta looking over his shoulder; he doesn't need us."

Annie looked unconvinced. "Once upon a time Britta would have stayed in here and it would have been Troy and Abed and Annie…" She looked down. " _in the morn-ning!_ " she sang, very very quietly.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "If you actually wanted to go," he said, "you'd have gotten up and went. And if you wanted me to go with you, you'd have already started giving me the eyes…"

Annie smiled, and started to give Jeff the eyes, as he put it, but broke off giggling.

"Now see those are a different set of eyes," Jeff protested.

"My God," said Pierce, still sitting at the other end of the table. "It's like we're not even here."

"I know!" Shirley made a disgusted face. "They've been like this for days."

Pierce cupped his mouth. "Earth to lovebirds!" he called. "Come in, lovebirds!"

Jeff and Annie both startled, as though they'd forgotten Pierce and Shirley were still in the room, which of course they had. "Right, right," said Annie.

"Sorry," said Jeff.

"Super sorry," agreed Annie. She cleared her throat. "So, um. Historiography is the study of…"

Shirley's purse buzzed again. "Eugh. Actually I need to get back to the lunch counter," she said as she checked the time. "I'd hurry back, but you two really are insufferable at the moment and I have work to do. Pierce, you want to come with?"

"Hm? Oh, sure," said Pierce. "We can go over Shirley's Sandwiches's menu and I can make suggestions."

"You see? This is how insufferable you are. I'm leaving with Pierce," Shirley told Jeff and Annie.

"Huh," said Annie, once she and Jeff were left alone in the study room. "Huh," she said again, at a loss for words. They stared at one another.

"I'm trying, I really am," he said, with all sincerity. He scooted his chair closer to hers. "But I just can't make myself believe this is a bad thing."

She giggled quietly as she rested her head on his shoulder. "It's all the hormones. I did some research on this…"

"Of course you did." Jeff had put his arm around her.

"And a new relationship starts with a honeymoon phase, during which your significant other triggers your brain releasing serotonin and adrenaline and… stuff. It'll wear off eventually. A year, two years." Annie emitted a happy sigh as leaned against him. "Three tops."

* * *

Troy and Britta caught up to Abed as he strolled across campus. "Hey, guys," he said as they approached. He neither slowed nor quickened his pace.

"Buddy!" Troy fell into step beside him. "What's the plan?"

"Abed, as basically your therapist, I understand that this is a stressful time for you. It's stressful for everyone, what with the discarded Halloween decorations and I didn't get any breakfast this morning so I'm fading fast and maybe we could stop at a coffee shop or something?" Britta shook her head. "That's not important. What's important is that all your friends are here for you. Mostly me and Troy. And, you know, we've been a couple for months now, and we haven't spun off!"

"Yeah," Troy agreed, because he felt like he should add something.

"That's sweet of you to say, Britta, but the fact is your relationship is far too low-key to ever inspire that kind of stress. Face it, if we were a TV show, there wouldn't be much Troy/Britta fanfiction. There'd be a dash of Jeff/Britta fanfiction, some Abed/Annie fanfiction, even Troy/Abed slashfic…"

Troy beamed. "You know it, buddy!"

Britta shot him a bewildered look.

"But far and away, the bulk of the fanfic would be Jeff/Annie. I'm not saying your relationship is any less valid than theirs." Abed shrugged. "I'm just saying I know what the American viewing public likes, and it's a tiny small-footed white woman paired with a tall athletic white man."

"Britta," Troy interjected, "Abed is not saying your feet are big… dude!" he hissed at Abed. "Tell her her feet are small!"

Britta glanced down at her perfectly reasonably-sized feet, bemused.

"Ideally both are extremely photogenic and also highly neurotic in complementary ways that generate angst," Abed continued. "You're both very attractive people, but I think we all know who wins the angst-and-neuroses contest."

"I can be neurotic and angsty!" Britta protested. "Remember a couple of weeks ago when I almost dumped Troy because he bought me a cake?" She jabbed her finger triumphantly.

"No almost about it," said Troy quietly. "We were broken up for almost a day."

Britta sighed and threw an arm around him. "Thanks for taking me back. I love you."

"I love you, too," Troy told her, and gave her a quick kiss.

Abed cleared his throat, as Troy and Britta smiled at one another. "Exactly my point. Meanwhile Jeff and Annie were starring in their own private opera," he said. "Clearly, there's only one thing to be done."

"Make peace with the changing world around you and adapt?" Britta asked hopefully.

"Oh Britta," Abed said sadly. He reached out and stroked her cheek. "You were the sweetest of us all."

END ACT ONE


	21. 4a07: Endgames I King and Pawns II

ENDGAMES I: KING AND PAWNS

ACT TWO

* * *

Night at the apartment shared by Troy, Abed, and Annie. They hadn't written their historiography essays, or indeed made as much progress as Annie felt was seemly, so she and Jeff met up again after dinner to work on them… although that made it sound like they hadn't been in one another's company continuously, which of course they had.

Jeff was typing on a laptop at the kitchen table, while Annie sat on the sofa with her own laptop. "Hah!" Jeff cried, leaning back from his computer. "One thousand and eleven words answering the twin questions _what is historiography?_ and _is it possible for a man to die of boredom while writing_?"

"Let me see, let me see," Annie said as she rose and moved to the table. "Didn't you have to write briefs and memos and things when you were a lawyer?"

"You'd be amazed how little of that work I actually did," said Jeff, cracking his knuckles. He slid his laptop over to her. "Actually, you probably wouldn't be amazed."

Annie quickly scanned the document. "Jeff," she said reprovingly. "I assumed you were joking but literally a third of this is about how boring it was to write." She deleted the offending paragraphs with a few keystrokes. "And you barely mention Marxist analysis; there's easily four hundred words begging to be written about E.H. Carr."

Jeff scowled. "You do realize Chang is probably not going to read a single word of any of these, don't you? At best he'll skim to make sure that they aren't just random keyboard mashings."

"That's no excuse for shoddy work," Annie insisted as she slid his laptop back to him. "How can you respect yourself, if you just phone in the bare minimum necessary? _Monkeys_ just phone in the bare minimum necessary."

"Actually I think monkeys don't take community college classes at all…" Jeff trailed off, staring at her.

She returned his gaze quizzically. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, no. You're just… you are stunningly beautiful. How do you get through the day like that? Knowing that everyone you meet is thinking _what am I looking at here, some kind of supernatural being_? Men and women both, regardless of their normal orientations, lusting after you?" He reached out to touch her, and she obligingly stepped a bit closer to his chair.

"Flatterer," she said, but she was smiling. "That's not going to get you out of doing the assignment."

"I mean every word," he assured her, "but now that you mention it, there are just so many better uses of my time than writing an essay no one will read…"

"I'll read it," Annie told him. "And the sooner you're done, the sooner we're… celebrating how done you are." She spun away, out of his grasp, and danced her way back to the sofa.

"You're a monster, you know that?" Jeff grinned, and turned back to his laptop.

After only a couple of minutes the apartment door opened and Troy, Abed, and Britta swept in.

"Oh, they're here," Troy said when he saw Jeff and Annie already there. He sighed. "Hi, guys."

"You're sitting at opposite ends of the room, with Jeff facing away from Annie," Abed observed. "Did you have a fight?"

"No, no, I got it," Britta said before Jeff or Annie could respond. "You separated physically because you get distracted staring at each another if you're in a different position. Or at least Jeff does. Am I right? If I'm right don't say anything, just exchange glances laden with romantic subtext… I thought so," she said smugly as Jeff and Annie did indeed exchange glances, over Jeff's shoulder.

"You finish your essays?" Troy asked, as he sauntered to the fridge and found leftovers.

"Mine's done," Annie said. "Jeff is still finishing his."

"Jeff would be done," Jeff declared, "if a certain someone… hey!" He broke off as Britta squirted him with a water pistol.

"I warned you," she said simply.

"I didn't even…"

"You were gonna." Britta sat on the sofa next to Annie, her feet tucked under her.

"Annie, a word?" Abed said suddenly.

She looked up from her work. "What?"

"A word," he repeated. "In the bathroom."

"In the bathroom?" She raised her eyebrows.

"I don't have a room and it would be presumptuous to ask to meet you in your room," Abed explained.

"Okay," Annie said doubtfully, as she rose and allowed Abed to lead her to the bathroom.

Troy plopped down in the space she vacated, containers of leftovers in his lap. "Food?" He offered one of the containers to Britta.

She took it but eyed the container suspiciously. "What is this?" she asked, tugging on the container's opaque plastic lid. "Ew, it's furry!"

"Oh, then it's probably the Chinese we ordered in May that one time," Troy said, with a sort of _that answers that_ air.

"Troy, it's November," Britta told him.

He shrugged and began digging through the brown glop in one of the other containers, with a fork and a determined expression.

"How about we order a pizza?" Britta asked, putting the lids back on the containers.

"Oh, uh, sure, if you don't feel like Chinese…" Troy rose. "I'll call it in."

"So this is a thing, huh?" Britta asked Jeff as soon as he was gone. She moved from the sofa to a kitchen chair next to him.

"I guess." Jeff didn't look up from his work.

"You and Annie, me and Troy…" Britta continued.

"Uh huh."

"Of course," Britta said as though the thought had just occurred to her, "Troy and I got together a while back."

"Uh huh."

"It probably would have happened earlier, except he was away in the AC Repair Annex all summer," she said artlessly.

"Yep."

Britta folded her arms and scowled at Jeff. "Why were you never even a little bit jealous?"

He finally looked up. "What?"

"I mean, you and I had this on again, off again thing for… well, for a while," she said. "But I've never seen you get jealous of Troy. You've never been jealous in your life!"

"I've gotten jealous," Jeff said. He was unsure why they were having this conversation but he was unwilling to concede the point.

"Name one time."

"Uh… Vaughn, our first year here. That jerk from City College who screwed up paintball sophomore year…" Jeff struggled to think of other examples. "Rich!"

"Okay, firstly, those guys were all into _Annie_ ," Britta said. "Or she was into them. Secondly, I do remember you being jealous of Vaughn _over Annie_ and your solution was to throw Troy at her."

Jeff looked bemused. "Heh, yeah. I forgot about that."

"But you weren't jealous of Troy. And you definitely weren't jealous of me and Troy. You've never been jealous of me and anybody."

He stared at her. If he didn't know her better he'd think she was fishing for some kind of validation on the grounds that she was jealous of his relationship with Annie. But while Britta constantly sought validation on a variety of points, Jeff was sure that wasn't one of them. "Where are you going with this?" he asked bluntly.

She shook her head angrily. "I'm happy with Troy. It's going really well, scary well, I keep thinking I'm going to screw it up and them somehow that doesn't happen, and Abed and Annie are his roommates but they don't throw things at me, and…" Seeing Jeff's expression, Britta stopped. "I've had some bad experiences."

He nodded slowly.

"I'm happy. But I look at you and Annie, and I'm like, they are so into each other it's godawful, and I wonder why you and me weren't like that. I mean," she continued quickly, "I'm fine with not being into you, but you were never into me like you're into her. Why was that?"

"Because we were a terrible couple and we only hooked up out of mutual self-loathing?" Jeff asked. "I'm not being glib," he added. "We were a terrible couple and we only hooked up out of mutual self-loathing."

"Speak for yourself, mister self-loathing guy," Britta snorted.

"Okay, I was being a little glib." Jeff cocked his head. "We were a subpar couple and we hooked up out of weakness and boredom rather than any remotely romantic impulses or deeply felt emotion. It makes sense that we'd both be happier with other people."

"Yeah, well, I'm not used to seeing ex-boyfriends being happy with other women," she said. "Usually when I get a new ex-boyfriend I don't stick around to see them live happily ever after with the one true love that I was just warming them up for."

Jeff smiled.

"I said 'one true love' and now you're thinking about Annie, aren't you?" Britta accused him.

His eyes widened slightly. "No…"

She scoffed.

"Fine, I was," Jeff retorted. "Is that so wrong? I mean, yes, we've been together for like a week…"

"I'm surprised you don't know the exact number of hours," Britta said.

"And yes, I keep thinking about five, ten, thirty years ahead and how I want to spend the rest of my life with her and yes, I'm maybe a little terrified that she'll lose interest, or that I can't turn this off when I need to and I become just a pit of emotional neediness and drive her off, or that when she finishes becoming the incredible woman that she already mostly is, that incredible woman won't want someone like me, and yes, I am dealing with that by not thinking about it, but…" He noticed he'd been speaking louder and faster, and stopped. "What was the question?"

Britta brightened. "Who cares? Look at you being all self-aware! That was a breakthrough."

"That was not a breakthrough," Jeff replied wearily.

"That was totally a breakthrough. You been _therapized_!" Britta grinned. A thought struck her. "Hey, would you be willing to sign an affidavit describing this as a successful therapy session?"

* * *

In the bathroom Annie sat primly on the closed toilet seat and stared at Abed, who hopped onto the counter by the sink. He stared back at her.

Eventually she cleared her throat. "Abed," she said. "What did you need to talk to me about?" She glanced around. "In the bathroom?"

Abed looked at her, saying nothing.

"Is this," she began, her eyes narrowing, "about rent? Because I'm not moving out, okay, and Jeff isn't moving in, and we had this discussion already about Troy and Britta, and if one of them moves we'll deal with it then and…" She trailed off as Abed slowly shook his head no. "Okay, do I need to keep guessing?"

"I'm really happy for you," Abed told her.

"Oh." Annie waited for him to elaborate, but when he didn't, she spoke. "Thank you?"

"I see you and Jeff Winger, and I think 'ah, that's love.' Beautiful." Abed was looking right at her, Annie realized, but his eyes weren't actually focused on her.

"Well, we just started going out, I think it's too early to put, you know, a label on it," she said carefully.

"No, you're wrong, Annie. It's love. I know. I know what love looks like. Intense. Passionate. Permanent. Boundless. He's been hurt so many times before. His father leaving him. Failing out of college. Getting his legal credentials taken from him. I assume other bad things, also." Abed blinked, twice, deliberately. "But now he has you."

Annie leaned forward and squinted at him. "Okay," she said slowly, smiling. "Drop the act, Robert Stack. You're trying to freak me out."

Abed shook his head again. "No. I'm trying to find a way to tell you how I feel."

"How you feel?" she repeated skeptically.

"How I feel when I see you with him. So joyous, so full of life, so beautiful."

"Aw," Annie cooed. She sobered. "But also oh, as in, oh, no, you're full of it."

"It causes me pain. It shouldn't." Abed lowered his head.

"Okay, so…" Annie raised her hands. "I think I've got this. You're claiming to secretly be in love with me… because you think that might break up me and Jeff… because you think that might save the study group as an entity… because you think that's the only way to keep Jeff as a friend." She ticked each point off on her fingers. "Not just Jeff, but me and… Shirley and Pierce?"

Abed opened his mouth, then closed it again, then opened it again. "And Britta."

"I think you're stuck with Britta," Annie told him. She patted his knee sympathetically. "You're stuck with all of us."

"You're going to leave." Abed was still looking at the floor. "Jeff will go with you. Shirley is already half out the door. Pierce will wander off when Jeff goes. Britta and Troy will break up and Britta will move to Dallas. This is the last season of _Fringe_ and it's only thirteen episodes and I hate when a series that used to have twenty-two episodes in a season gets cut to thirteen, there should be more, it's like a half-season, two half-seasons make one whole season so when you say season six do you really mean six seasons or do you mean four and a half seasons because of shortening…"

"Abed!" Annie cut him off. "It's going to be okay. It is! People care about you… I care about you. I'm not going to just vanish because I'm in a relationship."

He looked her in the eyes. "You'll move out. Britta will move in. That will be the first step."

"I don't think that's going to happen…"

"Britta is insecure. Troy is optimistic. There'll be space in the apartment when you move in with Jeff."

"What? No!" Annie lifted her arms to fend away imagined codependence-demons. "Abed, Jeff and I _just_ got together. We're not about to rush into cohabitation, I promise…"

Abed shook his head. "You say that, but it's going to happen. It's already started. You're the endgame couple."

"Okay. Okay," Annie said. "Okay. What would it take to convince you that you aren't on the verge of suddenly losing all your friends?"

"If you and Jeff un-resolved your sexual tension," he said promptly.

"That's not happening. I mean, it's not possible. Also: ew." A thought struck Annie. "What if, though," she said warmly, "instead of losing all your friends, we all continued to be your friends for… like, a set period of time. Jeff can draw up a contract, which we'll all sign, promising to stay friends no matter what."

Abed considered this. "No," he said. "Eventually people will die, or get drafted and have to live on a army base in West Virginia, or move to Dubai to be part of an oil billionaire's informal harem of semi-captive women. Those might not be the most likely scenarios," he admitted, "but things do change."

"Ah, yes!" Annie cried, as though Abed had fallen into her rhetorical trap. "But what we do is, see, we give the contract a sunset clause of… say, six months. Around graduation, it'll expire and then we negotiate a replacement contract. If we can't come to an agreement then, we stop being friends."

Abed boggled.

"But! If we _do_ sign another contract, or an extension of the existing one, then boom, we're friends for another six months or however long we agree to. And until contract negotiations come up, we _can't_ stop being friends, because we're contractually obligated," Annie said brightly. She drew up, plainly pleased with herself.

"That's brilliant," Abed said. "I love it."

END ACT TWO


	22. 4a07: Endgames I King and Pawns III

ENDGAMES I: KING AND PAWNS

ACT THREE

* * *

The next morning around ten the dean sailed into the study room. He wore a crisp Napoleonic era military uniform, red and blue with a high hat. "Good morning all!" he cried. "I'm here to remind you that today Greendale declares _War on Seasonal Affective Disorder_! There will be a full battery of vitamin D supplements available in the cafeteria, one wing is being set aside as a holiday-free zone for those who find pictures of snowmen and Santa conjure traumatic memories… Normally we don't start the war until after Thanksgiving, but I thought given that SAD pretty soundly defeated us last year we would get the jump on it…" He trailed off when he realized that the room was empty.

"Odd." He checked his watch: ten thirty. Normally Jeffrey and the others would be sitting around their table, chatting about nonesuch and sundries… Of course Chang had been erratic, as an instructor, the dean knew. That morning around four he'd sent out a blast email declaring that historiography classes were being moved to six in the evening at a bar off campus. The dean was unsure that was permitted, but confronting Chang about it would involve confronting Chang. No thank you, the dean thought. Best to just ignore it.

Regardless of Chang's antics, probably the study group were meeting at a different time, or not at all, or what have you. Vowing to try again later, the dean swept back out of the study room. The midmorning crowd in the cafeteria were his next target; in many ways they were the specific intended audience for the War on SAD, as they were hanging out in a community college lunchroom in the middle of the day.

Seconds after the dean's exit, Troy and Abed entered and took their seats.

"I'm telling you man, I am super pissed at her," Troy declared, apropos of nothing.

Abed glanced around the room. "Who?"

"Britta! Duh-doy! Man!" He threw his arms theatrically up in the air. "I just can't," Troy paused for breath, "believe what she said!"

"What did she say?" Abed asked.

"Oh man, what did she say! She said… something awful." Troy blinked. "Okay, actually she didn't say anything. No, that's not right either. What she said was, 'hey Troy, let's pretend to have a fight and draw some attention away from Jeff and Annie. No, let's not do that, I'm being stupid, forget I said anything, you're so nice.' I'm paraphrasing."

"You are nice," Abed acknowledged.

"So I'm going to surprise her by picking a big dramatic fight with her. I'm pretty sure she'll love it," Troy said confidently.

"Okay," said Abed. "Do you need me to do anything?"

Troy nodded. "I've already told you about it, so, yeah. People are going to think, 'hey, Troy and Britta fighting, Abed will be on Troy's side because they're buds.' You know?"

"Uh huh."

"But, if you take Britta's side in the fight…" Troy made an enticing gesture. "Then they'll be like, 'hey, Abed and Britta against Troy? This is some must-see TV going on here!'"

"Drum up interest. Check," said Abed.

Troy would have given him more detailed instructions, but just then Britta entered. "Am I late?" she asked as she sat down next to Troy.

"Yes you are, and I for one am insulted," Troy declared. He elbowed Abed.

"You are a very punctual person, Britta," Abed told her.

"We're all sitting here waiting on you," Troy continued. "It's truly outrageous!"

"If anything you're early. Annie, Jeff, Shirley, and Pierce are all later than you are," said Abed. "You don't need to apologize."

"You definitely need to apologize!" thundered Troy.

Britta stared at him. "Sorry?" she offered.

Abed leaned towards her. "It's okay, we're doing a bit."

"It is not okay!" shouted Troy. "And we are definitely not doing a bit!"

"I agree with Abed," said Britta. "You guys are doing a bit."

"Well I disagree with Abed!" screamed Troy.

Britta winced. "Okay, take it down a notch, you're really loud."

"Am not," declared Troy, but he declared it in a more normal tone of voice.

"He was being really loud, yes," Abed agreed quietly.

Shirley entered the room, with Pierce close on her heels. "And another thing, what's deal with Let's Potato Chips?" Pierce was saying. "Their motto is 'get your damn hands off of my Let's!' Who says that? Who are the people who are getting so riled up about who's handling whose potato chips?"

"Pierce, for the last time, I don't want to hear your standup!" Shirley sat heavily in her seat. "Would someone tell him he isn't funny?"

"You're not funny, Pierce," Britta wasted no time in saying.

"My brand of humor may be more ironic and cerebral than you're used to," Pierce said as he, too, sat down.

"Britta's right." Abed's tone was firm. "Pierce is not funny."

"I think he's very funny," Troy said. "Pierce! Say something funny!"

"No," responded Pierce, affronted. "I'm not your performing monkey, here to be made fun of!" He glanced at Jeff and Annie's empty seats. "Speaking of, where's Jeffrey?"

"Oh, who knows," said Britta. "I haven't seen either of them since they finished their historiography essays last night."

"Finished their… Did you people have a study session without me?" Shirley asked, plainly appalled.

"No! No, no, no," Troy assured her.

"Yes," said Abed.

"It wasn't really a study session," Britta explained. "Annie just had Jeff over, and they were working."

"And we joined them," said Troy. "But not working."

"A little working," corrected Abed. "And Jeff and Annie were definitely working, just like Britta said."

Britta shook her head dismissively. "Ignore them," she told Shirley and Pierce. "They're doing a bit."

"We are, yeah," said Abed.

"We are not!" cried Troy at the same time.

Jeff and Annie strolled into the room, holding hands as though they were in middle school. "Morning all," Jeff said breezily.

"Are we late?" Annie glanced at the clock on the wall as she took her seat. Jeff, too, sat, in his new Annie-adjacent position.

Troy, seeing Britta (and Shirley and Pierce) all shake their heads slightly in a manner intended to convey _you're not late or if you are you aren't late enough to make a fuss about it_ , cleared his throat loudly. "You are! And I for one am outraged! How dare you keep us all waiting!"

Britta rolled her eyes. "They're doing a bit," she told Jeff and Annie.

Annie nodded in understanding. "Oh, that makes sense."

"We are doing a bit," Abed agreed. "It's definitely eyeroll-worthy," he added.

"We aren't and it isn't!" cried Troy.

"Is there more to the bit, or is this basically it?" Jeff asked, gesturing towards Abed and Troy.

The pair exchanged glances. "This is basically it, yeah," Troy admitted.

"Okay, well, I think we've all learned something," Jeff said. "Great bit, guys."

The dean, still dressed in a Napoleonic uniform, marched into the study room. "Good morning all! You're all here, good… I just popped in to remind you that today's the day we declare _War on Seasonal_ …" He trailed off, staring at the back of Jeff's head. "I see," he said coldly.

Jeff and Annie exchanged glances before Jeff craned his head around to look the dean in the eye. "See what?"

The dean cleared his throat. "You've changed seats, Jeffrey."

"I slid over one," Jeff said, trying to brazen it out. "So?"

The dean glared at Annie, who had turned beet red and was staring at her hands. "I see what's happened here," he said with a sniff. He looked around at the other members of the study group, trying to gauge their reaction. No one met his gaze. "I suppose we can discuss this in private, another time," the dean said stiffly.

"This is ridiculous," Pierce declared. "He wanted to sit next to his girlfriend; what's the big deal?"

"Oh!" The dean cried out, stricken. "Pierce knows about… this?" He gestured towards Annie, who emitted a shocked gasp at his uncharacteristically dismissive tone. "You told Pierce before you told me, Jeffrey?"

"I didn't tell anyone," Jeff said quickly. "Also, calm down."

The dean shook his head and shifted to address Annie. "Annie, you are one of my favorite people, you know that. And I suppose given the heteronormative nature of our society it was inevitable you'd come out the victor in our little contest…"

"Oh, God," muttered Jeff, rubbing his temples.

"But I'm more than a little disappointed to have to hear about it from _Pierce_ of all people," the dean concluded. "You told him before you told me?"

"I didn't!" Annie squeaked.

"Hey, I have every right to be told! I'm Jeff's best friend and Annie sees me as a surrogate father," protested Pierce.

"She doesn't," Britta assured him.

"Actually I think she kind of does!" cried Troy desperately, in a fruitless attempt to turn attention away from Jeff and Annie. Abed and Britta patted him on the shoulders as he lay his head on the table and quietly sobbed.

"It's okay honey," Britta whispered to him. "It's okay."

"It's not…" murmured Troy, crying.

"Britta's right," whispered Abed.

"And besides," Pierce continued, "I only found out when Shirley forwarded me Vicki's text. So if you're going to blame anyone, blame her!" He pointed at Shirley.

"Thanks a lot, Pierce," Shirley grumbled.

"Vicki's text? Vicki texted Shirley?" The dean whipped his head around, trying to follow the chain of informants.

"Not just me," Shirley said guiltily. "She sent a mass text to all the students, when she caught these two sinning together in a classroom."

"The _whole student body_ knows?! And no one told me?!" The dean screeched in inchoate rage. He spun on his heel. "VICKI!" the dean shouted, as he stomped out. "VICKI!"

* * *

A/N: This concludes "They All Just Fade Away." Thank you so much for reading! Reading, reviewing, favoriting, following, all of that.

My original outline was 13 chapters, not seven, and ran to the end of the fall semester. However, at this point I'm over fifty thousand words in and it seems like a good point to stop, and declare that any further adventures of this particular iteration of the study group will be a sequel story, not a continuation of this one.

Thanks, once again, to Amrywiol and Bethanyactually, who both read selected chapters of this story and offered helpful input. Rest assured, the chapters that aren't as good are the ones they didn't beta-read.


	23. 4a08: Ingredients of Thanksgiving I

Special thanks to bethanyactually and amrywiol for beta-reading. This would be worse without their input.

* * *

INGREDIENTS OF THANKSGIVING

* * *

SOCIAL ANXIETY I

"Okay." Annie stared resolutely ahead. Through the windshield of Jeff's car the world looked cold and gray and wet, perhaps because it was late November in Colorado. It cold have been worse; the alternative was cold and gray and icy. She shivered slightly in the chill air and adjusted her cardigan.

"Okay?" Jeff, noticing her shivering, turned up the heat. "I'm willing to circle the block a few more times, if you want."

"You said you'd pick her up at two, and it's already ten after." Annie shook her head. "We can do this. I can do this. You've met your mother before."

"Many times," Jeff replied. He gripped the steering wheel and gave her a sidelong glance. He didn't like seeing her anxious. "She's a sweet little old lady. And she has a glass jaw, so if it comes to it…"

Annie smiled at that, but sobered quickly. "I know it's not anything to get worried about. I don't have a very good track record meeting my boyfriends' parents. The last time I was in still in high school. I faked a British accent the whole evening and I claimed I was an exchange student from Barcelona."

Jeff cocked his head. "Barcelona, England?"

Annie sighed and nodded.

"This was when you were deep in the Adderall addiction, I'm guessing?" Jeff leaned over and grasped her shoulder. "That was a long time ago. You've grown up a lot since then. Which is good, because if you were still the same age I would be a criminal."

She didn't smile at that one, instead just sighing again. "So when was the last time you introduced a girl to your mother?"

"Uh…" That was a tricky one; Jeff had to think about it. The last relationship he'd had was with Britta, and it hadn't even really been a relationship. Definitely meeting parents had never been on the table. Before that was Michelle, bracketed by a few one-night stands, and before that… He had to go back a long way. "Also high school, actually," he said. "My junior prom date had a car and I didn't, so she picked me up. If I hadn't introduced them it would have been extremely awkward."

"So in _twenty years_ I'm the first girl you've ever brought home to Mother?" Annie asked, aghast.

"Not twenty years!" Jeff did some mental arithmetic. "Eighteen." He tried not to think about how Annie had been a toddler at the time. "I did spend a big chunk of time lying to her about being in school, you know. I wasn't about to introduce her to some girl who might let slip that I wasn't majoring in Anthropology, I was selling DVD players and digital cameras."

Annie threw her head back against the headrest dramatically. "I can't live up to twenty years of build-up!" she declared. "She's going to hate me."

"Oh, believe me, she adores you already," Jeff assured her. He hadn't planned on mentioning this, but… "I've told her all about you. And she was just thrilled when she heard we'd gotten together. She's a fan, I promise."

Annie looked at him quizzically. "When…?"

He sighed. Jeff had hoped to avoid telling her about this. Not for any particular reason, he just didn't like to dwell on it. "She was in the hospital, and I had to talk to her about something, so I started telling her about you. About Greendale, and the study group. You came up a lot." Jeff cleared his throat. "I mean, yours was the only name she knew…"

"She knew my name?" Annie asked immediately.

Inwardly Jeff winced. "Yeah," he admitted. "I made the mistake of mentioning you by name the first time I talked to her after the time I told her about how I'd lied about college and law school, and had to go to Greendale…"

"When was this?" She looked at him with what he hoped was a slight smile in her eyes.

"It was… well, it was a while back," he said. "I remember it was the day a ghost stole one of your pens." It had been in actual fact a semi-feral monkey, of course, but they hadn't known that at the time. "That night Mom called. Which was nothing new, she'd been leaving messages for months, but I'd been dodging her for so long... since Christmas the year before. That was when I'd finally come clean about college and Greendale. Anyway, that night she left this really sad voicemail that guilted me into calling her back. I ended up telling her all about you and the pen and how we all went kind of crazy. She thought it was a funny story."

"I'll bet."

"But ever since then, every time I talked to her, which hasn't been often… she always asks how you're doing. And I didn't want to have to keep her updated about Abed and Shirley and Troy and Pierce and Britta, so I told her as little as possible about them." He shrugged. "She's always, how's Annie, what classes do you have with Annie this semester..."

"Uh huh." From her tone it was clear she didn't completely accept his assertion that he'd told Doreen about her purely as a strategic move. She was smiling, though, arms folded as she looked at him.

"Okay, twist my arm, maybe she got the impression you were especially important to me, somehow," Jeff said. "But, you know, it was just because yours was the only name she knew…"

"…for some reason…"

"Yes, yes," he said testily, "I'm extremely into you and have been for a long time, we've established that. So trust me when I say she's very positively disposed towards you. I actually thought about taking you to visit her in the hospital, in fact, but there would have been so many follow-up questions after she actually met you that I decided against it. The shock of meeting you might have messed up her system."

Annie opened her mouth to respond, and then froze, her eyes widening slightly as she stared at him.

"What?" he asked, alarmed.

"Um." She closed her mouth and looked down, shaking her head. "It just hit me that she must have years and years of expectations built up. I can't live up to that! I'm not… she's going to meet me and be disappointed! I haven't even met her yet and I'm already letting her down!"

That was the Annie he knew, all right. Jeff leaned over to embrace her. "No no no," he murmured as she dug her head into his shoulder. "That is just not possible. You're the greatest woman on Earth." He meant that, too. Jeff generally tried not to think too much about the depth of his feelings for Annie; thinking about it led to talking about it led to scaring her away or scaring himself away.

"You're sweet," she whispered back. "But most people don't think that."

"Most people are wrong. Which comes as no surprise, when you look at our political system." Jeff was gratified to feel her loosen a bit against him. "But she's known how much I adore you longer than I have, basically, so if she's prejudiced it's absolutely in your favor. So long as you don't suddenly start talking about how much you hate _Simon & Simon_, you'll be golden, I promise."

" _Simon & Simon_?"

"Her favorite TV show." Seeing her lack of recognition, Jeff added, "It's been off the air since before you were born…"

"And I'm hearing about it for the first time now?!" Wild-eyed, Annie swatted him on the shoulder. "If I'd known about it I could have prepared! I bet it's on YouTube or Netflix, or I could get the DVDs… is Best Buy open today?"

"Annie." Jeff pulled her up and off him, and looked her in the eye. "It's going to be fine, I promise."

She drew herself up, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, opening them. "But if it isn't fine we go back to your place and I don't have to get out of bed until Monday."

He couldn't help smiling at her. "That's true either way."

"Now come on, we're fifteen minutes late… It's going to be fine." Annie muttered to herself as she looked up _Simon & Simon_ on Wikipedia with her phone. "It's going to be fine."

* * *

MEAL PLANNING

"It's going to be fine," Shirley assured Andre for the fourth time that day. The couple stood in their kitchen, surveying the array of side dishes, salad, stuffing, and cornbread. Four cases of wine, which was probably three times more than they would need but leftovers would keep. Enough food to satisfy a regiment; every day for weeks Shirley had thought of some desperately-needed addition to the menu. Guests, when dinner started, would have their choice of four entrees: turkey, ham, salmon, and what Shirley had been calling _Godawful vegan tofu spaghetti_ because calling it _Britta_ seemed cruel "Just fine."

Andre uncorked their second bottle of wine. "The more you say that," he said, "the less confident I get."

"Pierce is in Las Vegas for the holiday," she reminded him. "Jeffrey will be on his best behavior because his mother will be here…"

"Have you met his mother?" he asked as he poured. "What's her name?"

"I have no reason to think she's anything but lovely. Her name is Doreen, and she had a heart attack two months ago, and she's doing well."

"Not so well as to have Thanksgiving at her own house," muttered Andre. "I love you baby, and I know you love your friends, but I feel like we're setting ourselves up for farce having all these people over."

"It's not so many people! Just you and me and the kids and your brother and his wife and their kids and your mother and your stepfather and your cousin Estelle… and Annie and Jeff, and Doreen, and Troy and Britta, and Abed and Ronette."

"That's like twenty people." He took a sip of wine and handed another glass to Shirley. "Is it too late to send them all to get Chinese somewhere, and we grab the kids and flee for the border?"

"You be nice, now," she said, and sipped from the glass he gave her. "And you know Jeff and Annie will be in their own little world with Doreen probably, and you know your family would be here anyway, so really we're just having Troy and Abed over, with their dates."

"Does Abed know he has a date?" Andre asked.

Shirley looked away.

"You were going to talk to him about this in advance. You said you would," Andre reminded her. "You weren't just going to spring Ronette on him. Or him on Ronette — does she know you're playing matchmaker?"

"Of course," Shirley said airily.

"And she's game?"

"Of course." Shirley drained her wineglass. "I didn't exactly tell her much about Abed. Just that he's a sweet boy. Muslim, half-Polish, loves movies and television."

Andre made a face. "That's more than I knew about him, woman — he's half-Polish?"

"She can learn all about him when she meets him," Shirley continued. "There's nothing wrong with him, after all."

"It's going to be farce," Andre said gloomily. "Thanksgiving growing up was always a farce. If we're out of nutmeg," he warned her, "I am not going to make three trips out into the rain trying to buy some."

"We have plenty of nutmeg," Shirley said in a singsong voice. "With both his roommates in relationships, Abed will see that it's high time for him to settle down, with a nice girl."

"Is this about him and Troy, and how you thought they were…?"

"I never thought that," Shirley said sharply. "I just think that Abed deserves to meet a nice young woman like Ronette."

"Ronette," muttered Andre.

"She was named after the girl group." Shirley checked her watch. "And she should be here by now."


	24. 4a08: Ingredients of Thanksgiving II

INGREDIENTS OF THANKSGIVING

* * *

SOCIAL ANXIETY II

"It's the rain," Jeff was saying. "I'm sorry. Everybody's running late, you know?" He and Annie stood at the back door of Doreen's home, in her garage. Behind them the cold rain pounded the driveway, where Jeff's car was parked, and blew into the front of the garage through the open door.

"Oh, it's no problem, dear," Doreen assured him. "Come inside, come inside," she said as she reached up to hug her son. Jeff hugged her, a little awkwardly, and started through the door into the kitchen. "And you must be Annie," Doreen said to her.

Annie smiled as broadly as she ever had — she wasn't sure she would be able to relax the smile if she tried — and gave a stupid little half-wave. "Hi!" she said, like an idiot. "I'm Annie. I mean, you're right. Got it in one. Annie. Annie Edison."

Suddenly Doreen was embracing her. She was smaller than Jeff, Annie thought distantly, but bigger than Annie. Of course that was true of most of the people she met — bigger than Annie, smaller than Jeff. But Doreen was older than both of them. Maybe older than both of them combined, Annie thought. How old was Doreen when she had Jeff? Why was Annie thinking such inane thoughts?

"It's so good to finally meet you," Doreen said as she released Annie from her embrace. "You know I've been bugging Jeff for a picture for, oh, forever."

"Oh yeah?" Annie asked, still smiling like a fool. According to Wikipedia, _Simon & Simon_ ran from 1981 to 1989. It was not actually a spin-off from _Magnum PI_ , which Annie had also never seen, but it aired immediately after that show, closely associated in promotions, and they did a crossover once. One of the stars of _Simon & Simon_ later played George Hearst on _Deadwood,_ which she had watched with Abed.

"He says his phone doesn't take or store pictures," Doreen said. "Ridiculous!"

"Yeah," said Annie.

"Still, what can you do. Please, come in. I can make some coffee," offered Doreen. She led Annie by the hand into an exceedingly tidy kitchen, where Jeff stood.

"Actually, Mom, we're running late, so we should get going…" Jeff began.

Doreen leaned into Annie and whispered conspiratorially. "You want to see his childhood bedroom?"

"You bet!" said Annie. She swallowed. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Winger, I'm not usually so inarticulate."

"Oh, I know that, dear. You're the only one at that school who can give Jeff a run for his money, from what I hear. And please, call me Doreen." Doreen smiled at Annie while eyeing her up and down, then turned to her son. "Did you just now tell her that you've been telling me about her for years?" She turned back to Annie. "He did, didn't he?"

Not knowing what else to do, Annie nodded.

Doreen sighed. "It'll be okay." She patted Annie on the shoulder. "Would you like to see some embarrassing pictures he drew in elementary school?"

"Yes please," whispered Annie.

Doreen took her by the hand and led her deeper into the house.

* * *

MEETING NEW PEOPLE

Despite Jeff's assertion, the light rain did not appreciably affect Britta's drive-time from Troy's apartment to Shirley's house. She pulled into the driveway and parked behind two other cars. "Before we go in," she began, but Abed had already opened a rear door and hopped out. "Damn it! Why did I splurge on a car with a four doors? I never use the ones in the back myself! I really only need two. Or one!"

"What's up?" Troy, in the passenger seat, asked her. "You seem upset about something."

"I just wanted to…" Britta craned her neck to see Abed already ringing the front doorbell, in the rain. "Never mind. Come on! Shirley will think we're weird if we just sit in the car while Abed goes in."

"Well, yeah, that would be weird," agreed Troy as he opened his door. "Why did you want to be weird?"

Britta shook her head as she, herself, exited her car. "You know, we're an interracial couple… Shirley's family might not be cool…"

"Is this about you fishing for drama again?" Troy asked her as they stomped through the rain to Shirley's front door.

"No!" Britta glared at him. "No," she said again, more gently, as they stepped into place behind Abed. "I just know that for a lot of people, commonly but not exclusively African-Americans…" Britta froze as Andre answered the door.

"Come in, come in," he said, waving them forward. "It's nasty out there. Happy Thanksgiving, let me take your coats…"

"'Hello Mr. Bennet. Thank you for inviting us into your home,'" Troy recited as he pulled off his coat. "'Your home is very lovely.' Hi, man. My grandma told me to always say that. Thanks, though," he added, handing the coat to Andre.

"Yes thank you happy Thanksgiving yes," Britta blurted out, as she followed Troy's lead. "It's really very kind of you to have us all over…"

As Troy and Britta fumbled at small talk with Shirley's husband, Abed, his coat already stowed, wandered forward into the house. He passed a short hallway that led to a large living room full, by the sound of it, of a football game and people watching a football game, stopping only at the top of a flight of stairs that led down into a finished basement. Somebody in the basement was playing some version of Mario, or else they were watching a video of someone playing some version of Mario, which, if you weren't the person playing Mario, was basically the same thing. He cocked his head, trying to identify which version of Mario it was from the sounds.

"Abed!" Shirley was on him, suddenly; she popped out from around a corner. She was all smiles in her apron, but she gripped his wrist hard and hauled him into the kitchen. "So glad you could make it. Ronette, this is Abed," she said to a pretty dark-skinned girl who had been leaning against the fridge with her arms folded.

"Hi," the girl said, in the uncomfortable way people sometimes did when they met him and they'd had some kind of forewarning about him, and they were trying to be nice but also trying to determine whether the forewarning had overstated or understated the extent to which Abed was weird.

"Ronette's a friend of mine from church," Shirley explained. She didn't have to say she wanted to set Abed up with her, because this was Shirley and Abed had known her for years and he'd been resigned to something like this happening, probably today, because Shirley had no doubt noticed that Troy and Annie had both coupled up. Troy and Annie's coupled-up partners were six and twelve years older than they were, respectively. Abed wondered, idly, whether Ronette was eighteen, nine, or three years older than he was. She looked the same age, but looks could be deceiving. Annie and Britta looked the same age.

"Nice to meet you," Abed said, because it was time for him to say something. He considered extending a hand to shake, but decided against it.

"Have some wine," Shirley told him, and held a glass of it out for him.

Abed accepted it, because that was polite, but didn't drink it, because he didn't like wine. "Thanks," he said after a moment. He smiled, not too broadly — he'd gotten better at that recently, Britta had been helping him — and avoided staring at anyone.

"Shirley tells me you're into movies," Ronette said. She played with her hair a little, either because she was nervous or because she was flirting or because she was having trouble selecting a shampoo that properly addressed her needs, depending on what kind of scene this was, or would have been if it had been in a movie or television show or commercial.

"Yes," said Abed. Small talk meant providing details. "I'm majoring in film at the community college. I enjoy sci-fi, fantasy, and horror media in particular. I went to a convention for _Inspector Spacetime_ last month, with my friend Troy. _Inspector Spacetime_ is a long-running British science-fiction show that neophtyes often confuse with _Doctor Who_."

"Oh, wow," said Ronette in a tone that suggested — Abed couldn't be sure but it seemed like a plausible guess — that she was not, in fact, wowed by his small talk. "I don't really watch much TV," she added.

Abed nodded. "Then I shouldn't try to talk to you about it; you'd find it boring and I'd find it frustrating." He reviewed what he knew about Ronette. Options for an appropriate small-talk question were limited. "Do you enjoy church?"

Ronette laughed in a way that Abed couldn't possibly parse more finely than 'either nervous/polite or relieved/entertained.' "I guess, yeah."

"Well, listen to you two," Shirley said, pleased. In context that probably meant Ronette had sounded relieved/entertained.

Abed asked himself what Jeff would do in this situation, but that was an unhelpful exercise: Ronette wasn't Annie, so he didn't know if Jeff would be her type. He decided to try a gambit instead. "I heard a video game downstairs," he said. "Care to join me in checking it out?"

"Sure," said Ronette. She moved forward, off the fridge and in his direction.

"The kids are downstairs," Shirley said, over Ronette's shoulder.

"Don't worry Shirley, we won't steal their toys," Ronette told her without turning around. She winked at Abed, but that could have meant anything.

Abed backed out of the kitchen and into the hallway, Ronette close at hand. He turned and started walking down the stairs.

Behind him, he heard Ronette sigh. "I'm sorry about this," she said. "I was going to go home for Thanksgiving but my ride fell through, and Shirley invited me…"

"Shirley's nice," said Abed.

"Oh, yes. Kind of pushy sometimes, but nice," Ronette agreed. "Anyway, you know how it is."

"Sure," said Abed, though he wondered which of the thousands of possibilities Ronette's 'it' referred to.

"Get the young, single people together," Ronette said. "Kind of heavy-handed."

"Sure," Abed said again, relieved she had provided slightly more context.

* * *

CATCHING UP WITH RELATIVES

Upstairs Annie sat in an oversized love seat next to Jeff's mother and felt especially small. Doreen was incredibly nice, was the thing. She'd given Annie a brief tour of her home, which was Jeff's childhood home, highlighting the adorable escapades of young Jeff. She'd learned that he went through a phase in elementary school where he drew dozens and dozens of pictures of professional wrestlers. She'd learned that he had once kicked a hole in the wall of his bedroom, which he'd tried to repair himself with spackle, without telling his mother. She'd learned that when he failed out of CU at nineteen he'd spent six years working a series of terrible retail jobs. During that time he'd told Doreen he was going to college, and then law school, in Denver. Doreen glossed over the failed-out-of-school and the lied-to-his-mother-for-six-years parts of the story and emphasized the part where Jeff passed the bar exam on his first try, despite not having any formal education. He'd only sat for the bar because Doreen had caught him in a lie and he'd needed to cover for it.

"And then, well, you know the rest. He's just lucky he didn't tell me he was in medical school." Doreen finished the story with a laugh.

"That would have been harder to fake," Jeff agreed. He eyed his empty wineglass with disappointment. "I'm going to get a refill," he announced, rising from the love seat's matching easy chair. "Either of you need anything?"

"Some water, please?" Doreen smiled at her son. "Thank you, dear."

"I'm fine," Annie said. Actually she was regretting turning down the wine Shirley had offered her, but Doreen hadn't been drinking and Annie didn't want the woman thinking she was a lush.

Doreen turned to Annie as soon as Jeff had walked away. "Annie, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Annie said, smiling brightly despite the waves of anxiety that were washing over her. Was Doreen going to ask where Annie saw herself in five years? Whether she expected to be the mother of Doreen's grandchildren? Whether Annie wanted the hypothetical grandchildren to be raised Jewish or Episcopalian? What the real story was behind whatever scrim of half-truths and innuendos Jeff had no doubt told his mother about Annie's reasons for being at Greendale instead of Harvard?

"How is he?" Doreen asked, surprising her. "Assuming, for the moment, that what he's told me about you is true, which it seems to be… well, you know him better than I do."

Annie stammered over the unexpected question. "I don't know if that's true…"

"You don't need me telling you, but he can be very tight-lipped," Doreen told her. "It was twisting his arm to get him to even describe or name you. I'm his mother; I can't help worrying about him. You'd know if he wasn't on track to graduate in the spring, wouldn't you?"

"Absolutely," Annie said, relieved that the interview seemed to be going in a different direction than it might have. _When was the last time you spoke to your mother? Why have you disappointed her so badly? Why did your parents divorce? To what extent was it your fault? When was the last time you took Adderall? Have you arranged to intern at St. Luke's yet? Why not? What else do you expect to do with a degree in Hospital Administration from a community college?_ "I would, and he is. Definitely. He's doing well."

"Oh, good." Doreen was visibly relieved. She craned her neck towards the doorway to the kitchen, checking for Jeff. "I worry, you know." She glanced back at Annie. "I don't mean to be invading his privacy," she said. "I just know that there are things he wouldn't tell me. I mean, he made it sound like a new thing, but… did you get together a year ago and he just recently thought to mention it?"

Annie smiled and was about to say no, but then she considered the last year's worth of interactions with Jeff. "No," she said, after a moment's hesitation. "We were friends, of course, but we only… got together… recently. It was kind of gradual. But mostly not."

Doreen looked like she had another question, but just then Jeff reappeared, holding three stemless wineglasses in two hands. "Sorry that took so long, Shirley waylaid me in the kitchen," he said as he sat back down. "Here's your water," he said to his mother with a wink, handing her one of the glasses of wine.

"Just the thing! Thank you, dear," Doreen said with a smile.

Annie experienced something she hadn't in a very long time — she was on the outside of an in-joke with Jeff Winger. It was a discomfiting experience. She picked up the wine Jeff had brought her — had he read her mind, or was it just part of the in-joke? — and took a deep swallow.

* * *

PARTY GAMES

In the basement Abed, Ronette, two of Shirley's sons, and two of their cousins all sat in a circle. "This will be fun," Ronette assured the children, unnecessarily. "Has everyone played Apples to Apples before?"

"Yes," the children said in a ragged chorus, while Abed shuffled.

"I'll deal first," he announced, and did so.

"So fun," Ronette repeated, apparently to herself. Abed couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or if she was a genuine Apples to Apples enthusiast.

"The first card is…" Abed drew a red card. "A Cabin in the Woods. A Cabin in the Woods," he repeated.

"You have to read all the words!" protested one of the children.

"Do you not know what a cabin is?" Abed asked him. "Fine. 'Henry David Thoreau went to Walden Pond for two years. All we want is one lousy weekend.' A Cabin…" he paused for effect, "in the Woods."

One of the children — not the mouthy one who'd demanded he 'read the words' but maybe his brother? — took longer than everyone else to pick a card. Finally he tossed one down.

Abed scooped up the pile of green cards and read them. "And my options are… Scary, Charismatic, Scenic, Dirty, and Masculine." He glanced up. "Charismatic? Really?"

One of the children looked uncomfortable.

"Somebody might not have had a very good hand to start with," Ronette suggested.

"Okay. Obviously the correct answer is _Scary_ , in reference to the movie."

The children looked at one another. " _Scary Movie_?" hazarded one.

" _Cabin in the Woods_. Joss Whedon? Last spring?" Abed shook his head. "Kids today."

"That one was mine!" Ronette cried in a sing-song voice, either to cut off Abed from complaining, which is why Shirley would have done that, or because she really liked winning, which is why Annie would have done that, or maybe because she never won anything and was inordinately pleased with the minor accomplishment, which was why Britta would have done that. There was, Abed reflected as Ronette collected the trick and dealt, really no way to tell. "'Ginger & Mary Ann,'" she read a moment later. "And the read of it is 'here on Gilligan's Isle.'"

One of the children raised his hand. "I don't know what that is," he complained.

"Seriously?" Abed snapped. "You children are really lacking in media literacy."

"We can do another one," Ronette said quickly. She flipped another card. "'Hootie & the Blowfish.' Okay…" She flipped a third one. "'Lenin's Tomb.' Uh… 'Norman Rockwell…' seriously? 'Painting a Fence,'" she read off the fifth one. "Painting a fence?" she repeated, looking around for one of the kids to object. When no one did, she sighed. "'A good way to earn some money,' it says."

Abed reviewed the cards in his hand. It was an easy choice; he made his selection and placed it on the pile.

Again, the slow child took too long.

When he finally finished, Ronette picked up the cards. "Let's see," she said. "There's Square, Dull, Plain, Tempting, and Hardworking." She made a show of considering. "Painting a fence is definitely hard work, and you could call it square or dull or plain… but I have to go with _Tempting_. Tom Sawyer tricked a whole squad of boys into painting a fence, by making it seem tempting." She glanced at Abed, smiling in a way that was probably at least a little flirty, just based on context.

"That's me! Tom Sawyer!" said the largest and probably oldest of the children. Ronette's smile vanished as he took the trick.

"I was 'Hardworking,'" said Abed by way of apology.


	25. 4a08: Ingredients of Thanksgiving III

INGREDIENTS OF THANKSGIVING

* * *

THE MEAL ITSELF

It seemed to be going really well. Going back… well, months, at least, Jeff had very occasionally imagined introducing Annie to his mother as his girlfriend. In his imaginings Doreen varied from doting on Annie, who was of course the best person in the world, to carping at Jeff about how she was too young for him, to complaining that Jeff would ruin her life the way he'd ruined his own, to pointing out flaws of Jeff's that Annie hadn't noticed and thus prompting a breakup, to enormous vistas of awkward silence punctuated with terrifying demands for grandchildren. But it seemed to be going much better than he'd imagined it would.

There were enough people that dinner was a multitable affair, with mostly Shirley's family at one table, mostly the Greendale people at another, and the kids at a kids' table. Abed and Britta and a woman whose name Jeff hadn't learned were arguing about Apples to Apples, for some reason, but Jeff was, of course, far more interested in the conversation with Annie and his mother. She was peppering Jeff with questions about the last few years of his life, who the people who weren't Annie were, and so on. Troy, on Doreen's other side, did his best to charm her with anecdotes about Jeff being alternately lazy and dashing.

Annie was being atypically quiet, Jeff had noticed, but other than speaking less and listening more, she seemed fine. Jeff's mother was on her best behavior, as well; Jeff was canny enough to realize that Doreen wanted Annie to like her; if she didn't then it would be another excuse Jeff could use for not visiting more often. At least for as long as he was with Annie, which (don't think about it, finishing this thought leads to stress, think about scotch and breasts, scotch and Annie and breasts, scotch and Annie's breasts). He snapped to attention.

Doreen was laughing at Troy's story about the time he and Jeff had found a trampoline, and the strange janitor. "And you just believed him?" Doreen asked Jeff, smiling.

"Well, it's not like you encounter actual Nazis every day," Jeff said. He smiled sheepishly, which his mother had found charming for going on thirty years now. "Neither of us questioned it. He said he was getting a maze tattoo… okay, maybe I should have realized something was up, but there was a trampoline. I was distracted."

Doreen chuckled, shook her head and turned to Annie. "Did you know about this?"

"Um, after the fact," Annie replied. "Pierce broke both his legs on the trampoline, so, yeah."

The genial mood dampened abruptly, as Doreen's smile faded.

"He recovered," Annie assured her. "He was addicted to painkillers for a while," she added reluctantly, "but he's fine now."

"He's in Las Vegas this week I think," Jeff interjected, to take some heat off her. "Because what could be more Thanksgiving than that, right?"

"Obviously I must meet this Pierce," Doreen said, gamely shifting the mood. "He sounds like a real character. I didn't know there were lasers in Buddhism at all."

"Pierce's version, anyway," Annie said. She leaned over towards Troy, and changed the subject. "Tell her about the pillow-blanket war."

"Pillow-blanket war?" Doreen glanced at Jeff before turning to Troy. "Yes, tell her about the pillow-blanket war."

"Not much to tell," Troy said, and immediately gave lie to that assertion by spinning out the entire seventeen-part documentary drama of pillows and blankets that had engulfed Greendale for two days the year before.

Doreen interrupted him with laughter several times. "What were you doing during all this?" she asked Jeff, at one point. "Were you a pillow or a blanket?"

Jeff shook his head. "I spent the whole time bugging Annie. She set up a nonsectarian first aid station."

Annie nodded slowly. "But you ended the war."

"Only because you made me," Jeff retorted. "She does this thing… I've told you." He pointed to Annie with a fork while addressing Doreen. "She looks at you, and… well, not like that," he said, noticing Annie was glowering at him.

Doreen grunted in a manner that Jeff interpreted as yes you've told me many times how she prods you into doing the right thing, and smiled at his girlfriend.

"It's true, it's true, he's wrapped around my little finger," Annie said to Doreen with a smile that didn't make it all the way to her eyes. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom real quick." She rose quickly and almost ran out of the room.

At this point Britta tried to bring Jeff, Doreen, and Troy into the Apples to Apples argument on her side — something about cultural literacy and whether the choice of which cards to include was in itself a political statement. Also whether a child born after 9/11 could be expected to know who Ginger and Mary Ann were.

Jeff, like all reasonable human beings, couldn't care less. "I'm going to grab a refill," he said, standing and waggling his empty wineglass.

On the way to the kitchen he saw the bathroom door was open and the room dark. In the kitchen he texted Annie.

 **JEFF to ANNIE, 1743:**

 **Are you ok?**

 **ANNIE to JEFF, 1743:**

 **Don't text at the table! [Shocked face emoji]**

 **Who raised you?**

 **Oh yeah supermom**

 **JEFF to ANNIE, 1744:**

 **I'm in the kitchen**

 **Are you ok?**

 **ANNIE to JEFF, 1744:**

 **Garage**

Seconds later Jeff opened the garage door and entered. Annie stood, arms folded, staring thoughtfully at Shirley's garbage cans.

"Hey," he said, closing the door behind him. "What's the problem? My mother loves you."

Annie turned. "Of course she does, because I have your approval and she adores you," she snapped.

Jeff gave her a perplexed look. "What's the problem?" he asked again.

"Your mother is sweet and even though you barely talk to her she's just happy to be here and included. And she's laughing at all the jokes." Annie shook her head. "When you got up before? She asked me how you were doing, because she wasn't sure that you were on track to graduate and you wouldn't tell her if you weren't, and she just wants to… she just wants to be part of your life!" Jeff saw angry tears forming as she tried to blink them away.

"Ah." Jeff nodded slowly, thinking he understood. He walked to her and embraced her; she rested her head against his chest and let him hold her.

"Why do you get to have that?" Annie whispered. "Why don't I get to have that?"

"Do you want her?" Jeff offered. "You'd take better care of her than I do. Go on walks with her, get her the nice canned food, play with her…"

She pulled back from his embrace and swatted him in the chest. "No! Did you hear what I said? She asked me if you were going to graduate because she didn't know and she didn't trust you to tell her!"

"I am going to graduate," Jeff protested. "Four years, as per the usual."

"That's not the point!" Annie swatted him again. "She didn't know… she didn't know Britta's name!"

"She knew your name," he pointed out. It seemed weird that Annie would even want Doreen to know Britta's name; wasn't his mother's ignorance yet another piece of evidence that he adored Annie?

She tilted her head in a way he recognized as signaling anger. "Only because apparently you couldn't describe the last four years even glancingly without mentioning me. Not because you've made any effort at all to tell her about your life!"

"Okay, yes," Jeff admitted, stalling so he could think for just a moment. "But she knows Britta now, and Shirley, and Troy and Abed and especially you, the brightest star —"

"Oh!" cried Annie. "You are not trying to sweet-talk me!" She spun around and stomped away from him a few feet. "You were at Greendale for a whole semester before she even knew you hadn't actually been to law school!" she added, over her shoulder.

"Annie," Jeff said, sighed. "I know I haven't been the best son. I was ashamed when I flunked out, and I didn't want to let her down, and…"

He trailed off when she turned and eyed him coldly. "We're going to talk about this more later. Right now we're going to go back inside and make sure your mother has the best possible time. Then you're going to make plans to see her again. Specific plans! Don't you smile at me," she warned.

"I can't help it," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning at her. "Okay. You're joining us for whatever we're doing, though."

"Well, obviously." Annie smiled shyly at him, then set her jaw. "I'm still mad at you, mister," she said, pointing at him.

"I know, I know." He cocked his head at her and tried not to think about how quickly he'd caved. "You're just really cute."

* * *

COFFEE AND DESSERT

Shirley had made five different pies, of course. Pumpkin, apple, pecan, some kind of custard, and lemon meringue. Abed's first dessert was pumpkin pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. There was no obvious reason not to take a second dessert, he decided; there was plenty of food. He cleaned his plate and waited until everyone who wanted pie had already gotten some. For second dessert Abed took a small slice of each, excepting the custard, which he didn't like the look of, and another scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Ronette was still sitting across from him, even though everyone else had drifted away from the table. She sipped a cup of coffee. "Someone likes pie," she said, as he sat down.

"Pie's good," Abed said as he debated which of the four slices to eat first. Pecan, he decided.

"You know," Ronette said suddenly, "I never got a chance to ask — what's your major? Shirley said you were a student, but I never heard what you were studying."

"Film," Abed replied through a mouthful of pecan pie. He was pretty sure he'd said that, but decided against correcting her.

"Do you have plans for after graduation in the spring?"

"Not graduating." Abed took another bite of pie. "I'll be short a bunch of credits. Maybe next spring."

"Oh? Did something happen? I don't mean to pry," Ronette said. She made some kind of facial expression.

Abed tried to mirror it, and then her expression changed to confusion, which was one he recognized, so he stopped. "Nothing happened," he said instead. "I just haven't been in a hurry to finish. There's a bunch of distribution requirements I still need."

"Oh, I see." Ronette took another sip of her coffee and watched Abed eat. "I'm a junior at CU," she said after a minute.

Abed nodded. It made sense; she looked about the right age for it.

"Education major," she added.

"Cool." Abed dug into the pumpkin pie. "The pecan pie was pretty good, but the pumpkin is still better," he declared.

Ronette stared at him a moment. "You do get that Shirley was trying to set us up, right?"

Abed nodded. "Oh yeah, I caught on to that pretty quick. And even if I hadn't gotten it right away, seating us together at dinner was a dead giveaway."

"Okay." She stared at him a moment more, before shaking her head. "Well. I guess I'll leave you to your pie…" She started to get up.

"I'm sorry?" Abed offered, because sometimes that helped. "I'm getting the sense I've offended you somehow."

She paused. "I guess I'm not used to guys having such a palpable lack of interest."

Abed blinked. "You're very pretty, but we don't have anything at all in common," he pointed out. "Do we have chemistry and I didn't notice? I can usually tell."

Ronette shook her head.

"Should I have been faking interest?" he asked. "I thought that would just waste both our times. In media when a blind date goes sour they cut away so you don't get to see how the people deal with it. Although this isn't really a blind date."

She held up her hands. "You know what? I've embarrassed myself enough for one night. Bye, Abed."

"Bye," Abed said. He sighed as he moved on to the apple slice. Shirley was probably going to corner him and chew him out for being rude.

* * *

SOCIAL ANXIETY III

"I need to grab one thing. Two things. Three, tops." Annie rushed into her apartment and on into her room, leaving Jeff in the living area. He sank onto the couch and considered taking his shoes off — it had been a long day — but decided to wait until they were back at his place. He settled for leaning back and closing his eyes. Brunch with his mother on Sunday, he thought. What had happened to him, that he had become a man who made brunch plans?

A sharp knock at the door roused him. Thinking Abed or Troy had forgotten their keys, he rose and threw the door open without a pause.

The future stared him in the face. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. Annie 2099. Future!Annie.

Future!Annie was the same tiny size, she had the same complexion, but she wasn't identical to the Annie that Jeff knew and loved. Glasses, for one thing. Also Future!Annie's hair was wavier, cut shorter, and she wore it loose. A dark pantsuit, and high heels. And, of course, she was older. How much older was hard to say — ten years, maybe a little less. Her face was sharp in places Annie's was soft, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

In a flash Jeff ran down the possibilities, settling on the one that seemed most plausible. Annie had an older sister she'd never mentioned. She was estranged, which was why Annie had never mentioned her. It was Thanksgiving and, in the spirit of having met Jeff's mother, Annie had invited her over in an attempt to reconcile.

For a microsecond and entirely against his will Jeff found himself cursing the universe for introducing him first to the firecracker girl whose life he was trying not to ruin, and only second to this ersatz copy who was clearly closer to him in age. If Annie were a decade older fully a third of his anxieties would probably be resolved. Although with another decade of life under her belt, Annie might know better than to get involved with a guy like him...

Behind him, Annie said something that derailed his entire train of thought: "Hello, mother."

Of course. Damn, she didn't look like she could be Annie's mother. Child bride? Really good genes? Annie was involved; it had to be the excellent genes.

"Annie." Annie's mother smiled with the lower half of her face. She extended her arms for a hug. "It's so good to see you," she said flatly, as though Annie were an old work acquaintance she'd encountered at a cocktail party.

Rather than embrace her mother, Annie stepped slightly closer to Jeff. He slid an arm around her.

Annie's mother lowered her arms. "Don't tell me," she said to Jeff. "You certainly aren't Troy Barnes, so you must be Abed Nadir." The woman extended a hand for him to shake, or possibly kiss; the gesture was ambiguous. "Sadie Parker-Edison, charmed."


	26. 4a09: Watergate and Maternity I

(Thanks, once again, to both bethanyactually and amrywiol.)

WATERGATE AND MATERNITY

ACT ONE

* * *

Annie's world spun and she felt light-headed. It was as though she was seeing herself from outside her own body, floating gently above, disconnected from the world. She hadn't laid eyes on her mother in just over three and a half years, not since May of 2009. Sadie Parker-Edison looked superficially the same as she always had, but Annie thought her face had grown a little more severe, the circles under her eyes a little darker, the perpetual scowl a little stiffer.

She'd always thought that, seeing her mother again, she'd be angry. _How dare her mother treat her so badly_ , et cetera. In the moment, however, Annie only felt exhausted, blank. Delightful as Doreen had turned out to be, it had still been a grueling experience. She'd made it through meeting Jeff's mother in part by promising herself they were going to go back to Jeff's apartment and crawl into his bed and she wouldn't have to think about anything else in the world until Monday morning. Sunday morning, actually, since she'd made brunch plans with Doreen and Jeff. It didn't seem fair that Sadie Parker-Edison would show up here, now, tonight; but Annie couldn't make herself feel anything other than a dull pang.

Annie screwed her eyes shut and opened them again, focusing. Jeff was talking, saying he wasn't Abed. Sadie had called him Abed, despite knowing his real name full well. Annie had no doubt Sadie had compiled reams of information before making this move.

"Jeff is my boyfriend," she said wearily, interrupting Jeff's stammering attempts to explain why he had answered the door, if it wasn't his apartment.

"Oh, of course," Sadie said, baring her teeth at Jeff in a way that could be mistaken for a smile. _This wrecked old thing is the best you could do?_ "Any friend of Annie's."

"It's nice to meet you," Jeff said. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Nothing too terrible I hope." Sadie's laugh was a sound Annie hadn't heard in years. _You've tried to prejudice your so-called friends against me but it won't work; they'll soon see the truth_. She glanced around. "This is a lovely building you have, by the way." _How dare you leave me standing in the hall like a tradesman! I demand you invite me in instantly!_

"Thank you so much," Annie said mechanically. "Please, come in. Can I offer you a drink?"

"Oh, thank you," Sadie replied, strolling in. She dropped her coat on the floor in front of Jeff, or would have, if he hadn't caught it. "I wouldn't say no to a glass of sauvignon blanc, if you have any." _You don't, of course. You live like an animal in its den_.

Jeff draped Sadie's coat over a kitchen chair and shot Annie a panicked look, which she returned.

As he stumbled after Sadie, who had seated herself primly on the couch, Annie hurried into the kitchen. "I don't think we have any sauvignon blanc," she called. In one of the cupboards she had a boxed white wine, which she'd bought on her first official grown-up liquor-store trip almost a year ago now. Annie wasn't sure where it was, she didn't want to serve her mother boxed wine, and she was fairly sure it was Riesling anyway.

"Oh, it's no problem, just tap water would be fine," Sadie called back to her. _Less than a minute in your home and already you disappoint me_. _Is this my fault? Am I unreasonable in my expectations_?

Annie grabbed a glass and filled it quickly, not wanting to leave Jeff alone with Sadie any longer than she had to. She dashed to the couch as rapidly as she could manage without spilling anything.

"Thank you," Sadie said, plucking the glass from Annie's hands and setting it on the coffee table in front of her without taking a sip. She used a coaster; thank God, Annie thought, that she had gotten coasters and set them out and even convinced Troy and Abed not to use them as frisbees. _Of course I wouldn't make myself sick drinking your unfiltered water. Heaven knows what diseases swim through this filth-hole's plumbing._ "So," she continued, turning from Annie to Jeff, "how did you two meet?"

"I've known Annie for a few years now. We were in Spanish 101 together, back in our first semester at Greendale," Jeff began. He sounded composed; he must have seen this question coming and taken a moment to prepare. Annie wished she could have taken Jeff aside and warned him that her mother never asked questions she didn't already know the answer to.

"Greendale?" Sadie repeated, as though confused. "Oh, the community college. GCC. Of course, silly me."

"We were part of a study group, and we took more classes together, and, here we are," he continued. "Of course your daughter is invaluable as a study buddy."

"I'm sure." Sadie beamed at Jeff. _Study buddy, he says. He may as well have just said 'I am dating your daughter because she helps me cheat.'_

There was a brief lull, during which time Jeff and Annie exchanged baffled and worried looks without Sadie noticing. Or rather, Annie hoped but didn't quite believe that her mother hadn't noticed.

"I'm sorry," Sadie said suddenly. "I know this must come as a shock to you, my suddenly coming over without so much as a call or email. We haven't been in touch lately," she said, which was the understatement of the century. "I thought perhaps in the spirit of the holiday you'd be willing to see me." _Do you wish to reject me, and be revealed as an unreasonable and infantile brat in front of your so-called boyfriend, or are you willing to admit you were wrong?_

"Of course," Annie said with barely a moment's hesitation. She blinked back tears and willed herself not to crack.

"Oh, thank you so much," Sadie said. She reached over and patted Annie's knee. _You see? That wasn't so hard. I'm back now and we can begin fixing all the problems you've made for yourself._

Jeff, perhaps noticing Annie's reaction, cleared his throat. "I hate to be the jerk," he said, "but the thing is, Annie and I have movie tickets and we need to get going."

Annie winced. Jeff was trying to help. Jeff didn't know any better.

"Really?" Sadie raised an eyebrow. "I'm so sorry, don't let me keep you." _I'm only the mother you've been estranged from since high school, obviously I'm less important than a movie date with the disbarred liar here. An imaginary movie date, I might add, if it were necessary to drive the point home, which it isn't._ "This is what happens when you don't call ahead. What are you seeing?"

Jeff didn't blink. " _Life of Pi_."

"Oh, you'll have to tell me how that is. Are you seeing the 8:45 screening at the mall or the 9:00 screening at the theater out on Highway 87?" _How stupid does this oaf think I am? How much more stupid must he think you, my daughter, to be? Does he lie constantly to you? How can you be sure he does not?_

"Yes, exactly," Jeff said, rising, "and if we don't leave in the next minute we'll miss the previews."

"Well, I won't keep you," Sadie said, rising as well. "But before you go, we must make plans to meet up," she said to Annie. "Specific plans."

"Absolutely," Annie said. She was getting that light-headed feeling again.

"Brunch on Sunday?" Sadie suggested. "It's been simply forever since we've gone to Anne-Marie's Room, you and me _." Your lying junkyard dog here will of course be absent._

Annie started to nod, despite herself, even though she had already made plans to have brunch on Sunday with Jeff's mother… at Anne-Marie's Room, in fact, at Annie's suggestion.

Fortunately Jeff stepped in, again, snapping his fingers. "Oh, no, you know we have that thing," he said.

"Right," Annie gasped. "Sorry."

"Oh, it's not a problem," Sadie assured her. _Invite me to dinner. Invite me to dinner right now._

"How about dinner on Monday night? We can have it here," Annie heard someone say. "I'd like you to meet my friends," the mysterious voice continued. Annie realized it was her own.

"That sounds lovely," Sadie declared. "Well, as I said, don't let me keep you." She gave Annie a perfunctory hug — when did Annie stand up? She'd been sitting a moment ago — and shook Jeff's hand before showing herself out.

Annie managed to avoid toppling over until the apartment door closed. Jeff lunged to catch her as she collapsed, and helped her onto the couch.

"Wow," he said, first petting her shoulder gently, then drawing her into an embrace. "Wow."

Annie started to reply, but it was too hard and she just sighed instead.

* * *

For most of Greendale's student body, the Friday after Thanksgiving was a holiday. For Troy Barnes, however, the Friday after Thanksgiving was a Friday like every other Friday. As the Truest Repairman of the Air Conditioning Repair School, his Fridays were occupied with rites, sacraments, and rituals. The morning after dinner at Shirley's he lounged, as usual, in his ceremonial coronet and worksuit of state, upon the gilded Throne of the Artisans. The Throne was a gorgeous art object, an artifact with a long and storied history dating all the way back to the Air Conditioning Repair School's founding in 1979.

"Thank God it's Friday!" chanted the Electricians Three from their lectern facing the Repairman. "Thank God it's Friday!"

"TGIF," intoned the assembly of over eighty jumpsuit-clad men and women.

"Thank God it's Friday!" The first of the Electricians Three, traditionally known as Ada, Maiden of Everflowing Currents, spoke clearly and carefully. This semester's Ada was a senior, like Troy, whose name rhymed with Bella but wasn't Bella. He'd only spoken with her a few times, but he knew she was a termite-inspection major.

"TGIF," repeated the assembly.

"Thank God it's Friday!" The second of the Electricians Three, whose liturgical name was Lisa-Marie, Mother of High Fidelity, tended to mumble. Troy was fairly sure this was ironic, but hesitated to say so, in case he was mistaken. Her real name was Megan, she'd been Ada last year when Troy had become the Truest Repairman, and she was an AC Repair major with a minor in Contracting and a concentration in Renovation Cost Estimates.

"TGIF," repeated the assembly, again.

"Let's dance, the last dance, the last dance tonight." Troy glanced at the third of the Electricians Three, Debra the Crone of Turbine Control. The final line of the Friday opening ceremony had always seemed out of place to him.

Vice-Dean Jerry, resplendent in his ceremonial robes hand-sewn from old vacuum cleaner bags, stepped solemnly to the lectern as the Electricians Three doffed their smocks and sat down with the rest of the assembly. "This week's homily is on the subject of Friday." He cleared his throat. "Thank God it's Friday," he said. "That's what we always say. Thank… God… it's… Friday. We hear that every week, but how many of us have really taken the time to think about what it means?"

Sensing that Jerry had already used all of his A material, Troy decided to intercede. "Excuse me," he said, sitting up.

Jerry cut off his sermon and bowed, as the assembly all straightened in their seats.

"I know we all love the Rite of TGIF," Troy said. "And it's great that everybody's here. I kind of thought attendance would be down today, but apparently not."

"We're Air Conditioning Repairmen and Repairwomen," Jerry assured him. "We're in it for the long haul, boss."

Troy shook his head. "And that's great, thanks. But today is the day after Thanksgiving, and I know a lot of people want to spend time with their families or get good deals on electronics. So I was thinking that maybe we could cut it short today?"

"Cut it short?" repeated Jerry, in a tone that he might have used if Troy had asked him to slaughter a puppy.

"Yeah, you know. Thank everybody for coming out — you guys are great, don't get me wrong — and then just call it a day," Troy said.

"But we… it's…" Jerry fidgeted with his hands. "I mean, of course we can do that, sir, if you want…"

"Can we?" Troy asked. "Show of hands. Everybody?" He waved to the assembly, who slowly raised their hands.

Troy tried to gauge the room. The assembly shifted in their seats, and he couldn't tell whether they were excited about a day off from the ceremonial duties of the Truest Repairman and his flock, or if they were just going along with it.

"Okay, either everybody is on board with this plan or else we have another situation like the time I said _Dark Knight Rises_ was a really bad movie, so, I'm asking, anyone who isn't sincere in their desire to get out of here, please put your hands down." Troy left his hand raised, then, fearing he was unfairly prejudicing the assembly, lowered it.

Most of the assembly, seeing him lower his hand, lowered theirs.

Troy ran his hand down his face. "C'mon, guys," he complained. "I know you don't want to let me down, but c'mon." He sank back into his seat.

"How about we just do a quick run-through?" suggested Vice-Dean Jerry.

"Would it actually be shorter?" Troy asked.

"Well, maybe…" Jerry considered. "Although we had to stop the ritual for this conversation, so when you take this extra time into account…"

Troy grunted in disgust. "Ugh! Just when I think I've gotten the hang of this whole thing, you guys pull something else. Listen. I don't want to be here, okay? Maybe all of you do, but right now Abed is at home marathoning old episodes of _Inspector Spacetime_ and _Porcupine Mouse_ , without me. And Britta is… I don't know what she's doing, exactly, but it's probably more fun than listening to Jerry's sermon, no offense Jerry."

"None taken!" Jerry assured him.

"So I'm going to put my Truest Repairman foot down on the AC Repair Annex floor. Messiah says, let's all just go home." Troy surveyed the assembly, hoping they were impressed by his leadership rather than disappointed.

Megan aka Lisa-Marie the Mother of High Fidelity, raised her hand. "Does this mean I'm not anointing your feet with oil?"

Troy looked at her, then at Jerry, and then back to her. "We're not doing that," he said. "Was that a thing we were going to do? We were never going to do that."

"Sire —"

"I've told you: Troy."

"Yes, Troy. Sire, Troy, may we sidebar?" Jerry tilted his head in the direction of the side door to the Holy Breakroom.

Troy sighed. "Sure," he said, and stood. He cupped his hands around his mouth and cried out. "Everybody go home!"

He started towards the Holy Breakroom, with Jerry and, for some reason, Megan, following him.

Once in the Holy Breakroom, Troy closed the door and settled into a chair with a sigh. "What's this about?" he asked Jerry bluntly as he poured himself a goblet of mead from the carafe that was always chilled and ready. Troy didn't even like mead. He'd suggested that the mead fund be donated to a food bank instead, but the Air Conditioning Repair Official Mead-Poursman had about broken down crying, so as a show of support for poor Teddy Troy made an effort to pretend to like the stuff.

"Troy, sire. Troy." Jerry cleared his throat. "It's about the harvest festival. By ancient tradition dating back to the Reagan administration, you'll be expected to don the crown of ash and alder, to take up the scepter of HEPA filters, and bless the pumpkin-headed king of autumn, so we can burn it and secure blessings for the AC Repair Annex to sustain us through the coming winter. Winter is coming."

"I know, I know." Troy took a swig of mead and despite his best efforts made a face. "I told you I want the budget for the festival cut in half, with the balance going to the women's shelter on Harrison Avenue."

"I know, sire. Troy." Jerry nodded. "And we are coming in very close to that budgetary goal. But there's a minor issue, uh, something that you should have been informed about already. I'm not sure how to put this…" He glanced at Megan.

Megan looked about ready to pop with excitement, bouncing in place and nodding. She clapped her hands together, unable to keep silent any longer. "I can't believe they didn't tell you! We're going to be married!"

Troy did a spit take, spewing mead all over the Holy Breakroom table. The Mead-Poursman rose from his stool in the corner to wipe it up, as Troy slammed the goblet down. "What?"

"I'm going to be the Queen of the Harvest! Bride of the Truest Repairman!" Megan squealed in giddy delight. "I have been dreaming of this since I was a little girl, and it's finally happening, and _eeee_!" She broke down in gleeful squeaking.

"That's not going to happen —"

"It's just part of the ritual," Jerry said, trying to calm Troy. "It would only be legally binding in places that recognize marriages performed in the state of Colorado." He winced, remembering something. "And the Vatican," he added. "Vice-Dean Laybourne made a special arrangement with Pope John Paul II at their last golf game together."

"That's not… seriously? Laybourne played golf? He didn't look like a golf guy." Troy shook his head. "But that doesn't matter. I am not going to get ritually married just so that you can light a pumpkin-headed effigy on fire!"

Megan looked crushed, much like the Mead-Poursman had when Troy had pitched the food bank idea. "Oh," she said, seeing Troy was serious. "I'm sorry I don't meet your expectations, sire."

"Troy," said Troy. "And it's got nothing to do with you, Megan. It's just, one, I think a lot of these ostentatious displays of wealth are ridiculous and the money could be better used for a lot of things…"

The Mead-Poursman, who had just sat back down on his stool after wiping off the Holy Breakroom table, let out an involuntary yelp.

"I know, Teddy," Troy said over his shoulder. "It's okay." He turned back to Megan and Jerry. "And two, I have a girlfriend."

Jerry cleared his throat. "Yes, of course. And you are certainly free to pursue whatever relationships you choose, in your private life, but as Truest Repairman you have, well, you have certain obligations. And your relationship with Abed Nadir is, no judgement here, sire, but it's not…"

Megan nodded vigorously.

"I've told you like eight times, Jerry, I'm dating Britta," Troy snapped. "Brit-tah!"

"Of course, of course," Jerry said.

"I would never dream of usurping the Consort-Royal's position," Megan added. "It would just be a political thing, and, you know, our kids…" She trailed off as Troy glared at her. "We can just put a pin in the whole question of how many kids, and what to name them, and stuff…"

"We drew up a plan, Jerry," Troy continued. "We drew up a plan to gradually scale back all of this crazy mystic bull hockey and spend the money on better things. I know you read that plan and agreed to it, because you signed it."

"Yes, sire," Jerry said miserably.

Troy sighed. It was hard to stay mad at Jerry about this. He was, after all, the fourth Vice-Dean Troy had appointed in as many months, and the first who had promised not to bullshit him or ignore his demands for fiscal responsibility and the AC Repair school acting like a normal school. "So why is this harvest festival just now coming to my attention?"

"It's kind of a funny story," said Jerry. "You remember the Reign of Terror last spring…"

* * *

Jeff and Annie Friday spent together in his apartment.

This wasn't the usual MO, not that they'd been together long enough for there to be a usual MO. Barely three weeks had passed since the day he'd found her in the Historiography classroom and they'd finally happened. Since then Jeff and Annie had spent several days together, but always in elaborate multistage date events Annie seemed to enjoy planning. Or maybe these were plans she'd made many years ago, Date Ideas With Boyfriend To Be Named Later, and her excitement came from finally being able to drive four hours to pick apples and eat smoked turkey sandwiches on a chilly picnic table, plus another four-hour drive back. A trudge through a museum looking at historic antique chairs and tables, interrupted by a cheap lunch and followed by a nice dinner. A trip to the Denver aquarium, which Annie hadn't visited since elementary school and Jeff had never been to. A tour of a local whiskey distillery with tasting… that one had been fun, admittedly. Actually, though only the distillery tour was something he might have thought to do himself, they were all fun. Maybe not the apple picking; there were perfectly good apples available in nearby stores. Better, even, than the end-of-season dregs they'd found. But the drive had been fun, and even at the furniture museum, at worst he could turn and watch her admire a dining chair that some famous chair designer in the 20s had built for somebody's yacht. Dating Annie Edison was, in more than one sense, exhausting; she never just wanted to hide away from the world, snuggle up on a sofa together and watch television.

But when they woke up that morning she suggested blowing off the hike he'd agreed to as a compromise between braving the malls on the busiest shopping day of the year and _not_ braving the malls on the busiest shopping day of the year. He could tell she was still rattled from her mother's sudden appearance the night before, but he was selfish enough to simply accept her pitch and keep her in bed. Plus it was wet. So it wasn't until relatively late in the morning, after the threat of a cold rainy-day hike had passed, that he questioned her on her anti-leaving the house, pro-watching- _the-West-Wing_ policies.

Annie sat on her feet in yoga pants and t-shirt under a sweatshirt she'd borrowed from him, sipping a cup of coffee. "You've watched all this, right?" she asked him, halfway through the third episode of the first season.

Jeff shook his head. "Just the first five seasons. There's two more I haven't seen."

She paused the show. "Do the blonde woman and her boss eventually couple up? They look like they're going to eventually couple up."

He shook his head again. "Not in the first five seasons. I think they do at the end, though."

"Mmm. Like, six, seven years? I hate it when that kind of thing gets dragged out way past the point of plausibility. Get together or move on, people." Annie moved to un-pause the show, but Jeff stopped her. "Hey!" she protested. "A man just explained how government works to a woman. I need the counterbalancing scene of a woman explaining how emotions work to a man!"

"I understand and agree with you," Jeff said. "Right now I've been reminded that men are more analytical than women but I'm not sure whether women are better at nurturing." He paused. "Eventually the show stops doing that. But, uh, you mind telling me why we're here, instead of out braving Black Friday or marching through mud somewhere?"

Annie looked coolly at him over the rim of her coffee cup. "Oh, you know, it's pretty bad outside. Nasty weather. I mean, it's not raining right this second, but I don't trust that sky. You want to order pizza?" she asked suddenly.

"You're changing the subject."

"I'm not! I'm just thinking ahead. If we want a pizza, we should order it now. There's bound to be a bunch of people home today who'll be ordering in. You know Black Friday is the day retailers start to turn a profit for the fiscal year? Big shopping day, glad we aren't out there, I mean, who would we be buying things for? Abed?"

"Annie…"

"Have you tried to shop for Abed? Abed just buys whatever he wants for himself. He's so hard to shop for. You remember his birthday party, we all went in on the briefcase. That was a fun time. Hard to believe it was getting close to two years ago."

"Annie."

"What were we talking about? Pfft, who can remember?" Annie shrugged flippantly. "I should start the episode again. I want to see who wins the argument between the President and the guy who isn't the President. Be thinking about pizza toppings, though."

She un-paused the episode, but Jeff snatched up the remote and re-paused it. "You want to talk about your mother?" he asked.

"What?" Her eyes widened slightly. "Who was talking about Mother? Why would we talk about her? She's just coming over for dinner on Monday, and the apartment will be a mess because Troy and Abed are probably turning the living room into a ball pit right now…"

"Britta's probably there," Jeff offered.

"A ball pit that reeks of pot. Mother will love that. I mean, she'll love whatever. She's just an unconditional approval machine." Annie's shoulders slumped. "God, what am I doing here? I haven't picked out a menu, I haven't washed the windows or gotten rid of the ratty blankets… I should go get ready."

"Uh. Hmm. Counter-proposal," Jeff said. "You stay here for the rest of the day and we order pizza. Tomorrow we head to your apartment and you can make a bunch of lists, and we'll do things on them. Sunday…"

"Sunday's no good," Annie interjected. "We have brunch with your mother."

"Sunday we have brunch with my mother, and then afterwards a whole afternoon and evening to… do whatever." The sight of Annie in his old sweatshirt, just casually lounging, was an inspiring one, after all. Provided he could talk her around this crazy.

She scoffed. "Okay, well, that's what I was about to do, Gerard Depardieu, but then you stopped me."

"I know." Jeff nodded. "I stopped you because… you know she doesn't matter. What she thinks, doesn't matter. She cut you off and abandoned you, so she doesn't get any of the credit for how well you've turned out since then. You're brilliant, loving, unbearably sexy… you're my favorite person."

She smiled shyly. "Well, thank you. But you know she hates you, too."

"What?" Jeff was affronted.

"She said you were too old for me, lazy, and a liar… she called you a junkyard dog at one point." Annie shifted around so she was leaning up against Jeff, her head resting on his shoulder.

"When?"

"Last night." She lifted her head to look him in the eye. "You were there."

Jeff shook his head. "She didn't say any of that. She was really Minnesota nice, but I'm pretty sure I notice when I'm called a liar."

"It was the way she said things. You don't know her like I do. She has this way of making you feel about an inch tall."

Jeff grunted.

Annie let out a long sigh. "And you can't lie to her. She always knows. She always knows best."

 _Like mother, like daughter,_ he thought, but Jeff wasn't so foolish as to say that. Instead he said "You make her sound like a supernatural monster. And believe me, I understand…"

"Oh, come on." Annie sat up and glared at him. "Your mother is just falling over herself to love and support you. To love and support me, just from spillover!"

"My father walked out on us when I was eight!"

"Yeah, well, my mother stuck around and spent my whole puberty criticizing me!"

"Right, fine, everybody's a winner in the terrible parent olympics." Jeff scowled, as the conversation wasn't going the direction he'd hoped for. He tried again. "What I'm saying is, she doesn't deserve the attention you're giving her by letting her make you feel bad. That's power that you're choosing to give her. I see how much she rattles you, and it's just… she doesn't deserve to be able to do that to you."

"Maybe not," Annie said slowly, "but that's where we are. She's still my mother. I want to impress her. I don't think I ever have, but I want to. I don't want to cancel dinner, or fake a broken arm or something to get out of it. That's not going to earn her respect."

"You don't need to… okay. Then, different strategy. Monday night you throw a dinner party. Fancy, high-end, Shirley does cooking, Troy and Abed are on best behavior, Pierce wears a nice suit and talks about Eartha Kitt, Britta stays home…"

That got him a brief chuckle and a thawing of Annie's chilly expression.

"Full-court impress-Sadie-Parker press. We get the dean to come, and talk about how you're valedictorian…"

"Greendale doesn't have a valedictorian," Annie pointed out.

He shrugged. "I suspect the dean doesn't know that. Do you know any other classy people willing to endorse and/or lie for you?"

"Just you." Annie stood there, watching him, a relieved sort of smile on her face.

"That's…" Jeff counted on his fingers. "Nine people, counting Britta. Put the leaf in your dining room table and you can seat eight."

Annie shook her head. "The table is Troy's. I don't think we have the leaf."

"No problem, we do it like Shirley did and have two tables. Grab a card table and a tablecloth, so six at the dining room table and room for four at the card table… which of your professors is most likely to gush about how amazing you are? We recruit them."

"I don't know if…"

"Please. They work at Greendale; they'll do it for the free meal. How about the model UN guy, name sounds like Clitoris?" Jeff cocked his head at her. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Oh, nothing." She played with her hair and glanced down at the floor. "It's just… this right here is more effort than I've seen you make without me prodding you… ever."

"Well, normally you don't give me the chance to act without you prodding me."

Annie crossed her arms, smiling slightly. "I should hold off on it more often, I guess. Thanks."

Jeff had his phone out.

 **JEFF to ANNIE, TROY, ABED, SHIRLEY, PIERCE, BRITTA, 1114:**

 **Calling a meeting. Six o'clock, my place. This is literally the first meeting I've called in four years so I hope you all realize this must be urgent.**

 **ANNIE to JEFF, TROY, ABED, SHIRLEY, PIERCE, BRITTA, 1115:**

 **Six o'clock! [Sunglasses emoji] [Smiling emoji]**

He glanced up.

"They don't need to know I'm here," Annie said, a little defensively. "And if I didn't respond they might wonder what was up, if we'd had a fight or something."

Jeff nodded warily.

 **ABED to TROY, ANNIE, BRITTA, SHIRLEY, PIERCE, JEFF, 1116:**

 **Ok**

 **ABED to JEFF, 1117:**

 **Is Annie okay? Is she with you?**

Jeff considered how to respond. Annie snorted, and held up her phone for Jeff to see.

 **ABED to ANNIE, 1116:**

 **I thought you stayed at Jeff's last night. Are you okay?**

Annie texted Abed back as Jeff sat back down on the couch. "Why six?" she asked.

"One, people may be in the middle of things. It is the biggest shopping day of the year. Two, nothing's happening until Monday, so there's no reason to foment a sense of crisis. Three, I haven't given up hope of keeping you here all day."

She bobbed her head in the embarrassed/pleased way she sometimes did when he complimented her. "Well, thank you, again," Annie said, sitting down next to him. "Although, I've got to tell you, I'm not really a marathoning whole seasons of TV kind of girl."

"That's okay," Jeff said, "I'm sure we can fill the time somehow."


	27. 4a09: Watergate and Maternity II

WATERGATE AND MATERNITY

ACT TWO

* * *

"More mead?" offered the man in the weird jester costume. He held up a glass carafe hopefully.

"No thanks," Britta said. "I'm good." She lifted her goblet, to remind him she still had it and that she'd taken only one small sip of the stuff.

"I know what you're thinking." Troy, sitting next to her, sounded as tired as he ever had. "I'm weaning the AC Repair Annex off of all this stuff, but, you know, they really enjoy it, and it's basically Teddy's pension."

"Teddy?" Britta asked.

Troy tilted his head to indicate the weird mead-jester.

"Oh. No, it's cool," she assured him. "I was mostly trying to remember whether mead has any alcohol in it or not."

"It's like wine." Troy was staring at something over her shoulder. She started to turn, to see what it was, and he cleared his throat. "Okay, well. This is my domain," he said, a little awkwardly, as he gestured around the room.

The grand hall of the AC Repair Annex had actually been somewhat disappointing. Troy had made it sound like some kind of massive assembly chamber, with rows of seats and elaborate banners. And it was, more or less. But it was also a lot more similar to the Greendale cafeteria than Britta had expected. A large folding screen blocked access to whatever was in the place of the lunch counter and kitchen. On it were emblazoned diagrams Britta presumed to contain all the secrets of air conditioners, whatever they were.

When Britta had been five or six, seven at the most, she'd asked her mother how the air conditioner worked. Her mother hadn't known, but rather than admit that ignorance she'd claimed that the unit contained tiny devices inside that were just like the heating elements on their electric range, except smaller and wired backwards so they got cold instead of hot. She'd also told Britta that the bristles on the vacuum cleaner were like a fan that blew dust up into the hose of the machine, that light bulbs had tiny candleflames in them that burned electricity, and that the phases of the moon resulted from the moon's being half white, half black, and turning slowly on its axis.

Britta had never done well in science class.

Still, she liked wine, so she tried the mead again, this time not as a replacement for coffee (it being before noon) but as a substitute for the beer she wasn't drinking (it being before noon).

In that context it wasn't that bad, actually. She took another, longer drink — a quaff, really, given it was mead in a goblet. Teddy the mead-clown topped her off immediately, which was nice. Britta took another sip and realized Troy had been waiting for her to respond. "Your domain, right." She nodded. "It's very nice," Britta added, less for Troy's benefit than for the half-dozen _Gormenghast_ refugees who had crowded around them.

That must have been the right thing to say, as the lead Gormenghastie clapped his hands together with joy. "Thank you, Consort-Royal," he crooned, genuflecting before her. "Now, as it pleases you, we begin the parade of choices."

Britta glanced at Troy. He shrugged and said "Okay, fine, but I'm cutting you off right at noon, okay? You've got twenty minutes, Jerry."

The lead Gormenghastie, Jerry, flinched. "Sire, Troy, we've got it down to a lean forty, but that's at the bone as it is."

"You want to not do it at all?" Troy asked him bluntly. Seeing the response of the courtiers around them, he sighed. "I'm sorry, but, c'mon. We've talked about this."

"Well then. Without further ado," Jerry said, straightening up, "I present to you the parade of options!" He gestured grandly towards the large screen at the back of the hall.

There was a pause, during which time Troy and Britta exchanged apologetic and questioning glances, respectively. Then someone started baroque music playing on a boombox somewhere behind them, and a woman stepped out from behind the screen.

Like the Gormenghasties, she wore a blue worksuit, but hers had been tailored into… something, Britta wasn't sure what. It was suggestive of a cocktail dress, with a sort of off-the-shoulder top, and the legs had been hemmed up to make a kind of jumper. Even without the aluminum foil trim, she would have looked ridiculous.

She seemed to know it, too, judging from the self-conscious way she sashayed up the hall's central aisle. When she reached the front, she stopped, and smiled nervously at Britta and Troy and Britta again. "My name is Megan Berkowitz. I'm a third-year Contracting major, and the oldest of six children. If selected, I will do my best to honor the principles the Air Conditioning Repair School was founded on. Thank you."

Megan paused, as though hoping Britta would applaud, or say something, but before Britta reacted she nodded tightly and stepped to one side of the aisle.

Another woman emerged from the screen. Like Megan, she wore a modified worksuit, but in her case the modifications could be summed up as "slits." She marched to the front of the hall with the confidence of a runway model, and smiled broadly. "My name is Stella Morris, and I'm a senior majoring in Termite Inspection."

"Stella," Troy whispered to himself. "I knew it rhymed with Bella."

"I love America and Greendale. I give excellent backrubs and I consider myself bisexual," Stella continued blithely. She smiled again, making direct eye contact with Britta. "Thank you." Stella moved to stand next to Megan.

The third woman, wearing a one-piece bathing suit and high heels, was someone Britta recognized. "My name is Quendra Martin and I was told this counts as a biochemistry lab credit?" She scanned the group. "Hi Britta!" Quendra said, when she spotted her, and waved. "I didn't know you were doing tryouts! I guess I should have, I mean you are…"

Jerry stepped over to Quendra and whispered something in her ear. Whatever it was, it caused Quendra to turn beet red. "Oh, jeez, sorry. I didn't mean any disrepect, ma'am." She curtsied at Britta. "Whatever you need, just…" She broke off as Jerry cleared his throat. "Thank you," Quendra said tightly and minced to stand next to Stella.

A fourth woman, who appeared to be dressed like Disney Princess Jasmine if Disney Princess Jasmine were a plumber, had already emerged from behind the screen, but Britta had had enough. "Whoa, okay? Whoa," she said. "Troy, what is this?"

Troy didn't meet her gaze, instead staring at his mead-goblet. "I dunno," he said. "Parade of options, I guess."

"Jerry?"

Britta turned to Troy's aide-de-camp, who fixed his attention squarely on, also, Troy's mead goblet. He said nothing.

"Eugh. Quendra, what is this?"

Quendra glanced at Jerry nervously. "I really need the biochemistry credit…"

"Quendra!" Britta snapped.

"Yes ma'am," Quendra said quickly.

"You said tryouts. What is this a tryout for? Don't look at Jerry, look at me. Look at me."

"It's to become the Truest Repairman's conqubine." Quendra _almost_ pronounced concubine correctly. She glanced again at Jerry. "He said you were…"

Britta turned to Troy, who was looking as uncomfortable as she'd ever seen him (good!). "What is this, Troy? This whole AC Repair thing has totally gone to your head if you think I'm going to be in a harem again. Not for you, not for anybody! I can't believe you'd even think for a second…"

"In my defense," Troy said slowly, "I feel like this is not a situation most guys would be able to navigate any better. Also, it's basically purely ceremonial. No touching, no nothing."

"Unless you want to!" called out Stella. "Either of you! I'll touch or be touched!"

"You're not helping, Stella!" Troy snapped.

"Hey, I was told no touching!" Quendra raised her hands. "No touching and no nudity!"

Troy smiled sheepishly at Britta. "See, it's just this…" he began, obviously trying to talk his way out of it.

Britta cut him off; she wasn't having any of that. "Quiet, you. Quendra," she said, turning to her, "what exactly were you told that made you think that it was a smart move to put on a bathing suit and high heels and do whatever the hell this is?"

"A biochemistry lab credit," Quendra said patiently. "Like I said."

"If I might say one thing," Jerry said.

"Shush and no," Britta told him. She addressed Quendra gain. "Okay, yeah, but what exactly did Jerry say you had to do for the credit?"

Quendra shrugged. "Win this, like, beauty pageant thing, and then there's a little ceremony where I get named the official conqubine of the Truest Repairman and his Consort-Royal… that's you, I guess?"

"For the moment, anyway." Britta narrowed her eyes at Troy.

"And then at the October Festival, which is weird name for it because it's at the start of December, but I guess it got delayed this year? I wear a dress with all these flowers on it, and there's like a skit or magic trick where they lock me in a big wicker head and light it on fire, but I don't actually get burned to death because they don't actually lock me in and they don't actually light it on fire?"

"Oh, no, we do light it on fire," Jerry interjected. "But yeah, she'll be safely out of it first."

"Why?" Britta asked.

Jerry shook his head as if it were self-evident. "So she doesn't die, dummy. I'm sorry," he said quickly, "The Truest Repairman, I mean, Troy has been calling people dummy, and it's kind of caught on."

"Duh doy!" Britta growled. "I mean, why light anything on fire?"

"Oh, I know that one," Troy said. "To please the spirits of the ancient repairmen and repairwomen, and guarantee a Halloween free from candy with razor blades and stuff like that. It's basically Halloween safety."

"Halloween was more than a month ago," Britta pointed out.

"There have been some delays," Jerry conceded. "The wicker Richard Nixon head was discovered this past spring and altered halfway through construction to more closely resemble Chang. We didn't think we were going to get to do it at all this year, but sometimes the stars align."

"So it's just this one stupid ceremony?" Britta asked. "The whole 'concubine' thing isn't… a thing?"

"I talked them down a ways," Troy explained. "Originally the pitch was… you don't want to know what it was."

"I can guess," Britta said, eyeing Stella.

"I thought you would think this was a fun surprise," Troy said apologetically. "I'm not really sure why I thought that, now that I think about it. I guess if you surprised me with an impromptu beauty pageant to select a woman to become our commonly-held concubine, I'd think it was a really nice surprise, so…" He sighed. "In some ways you and I are very different people."

Quendra raised her hand. "Excuse me, but am I still getting the lab credit?"

"Only if he picks you," Jerry told her. "Sorry, I mean only if _they_ pick you." He shot Britta a sour look.

"I don't see what this has to do with air conditioning," muttered Troy to Britta, then raised his voice. "Quendra, you want the credit? It's yours."

There was an incredulous gasp from the direction of Stella, who seemed to have really misread the room. "What about the talent competition?" Everyone ignored her.

"Well, we do have seventeen other candidates to get through," said Jerry.

"Nope." Britta shook her head and quaffed her mead, then stood up. "The Truest Repairman has spoken, and now we're going to lunch. Ooh, don't mind if I do," she added as the mead-clown refilled her goblet. "Teddy, you're doing a great job, don't ever change."

* * *

Dinner was scheduled for seven, but everyone was supposed to convene at the apartment at six, to review the plan and run last-minute preparations.

Shirley Bennett: Came home early with Annie, immediately put casserole made the night before into oven. Cut vegetables for salad. Promised not to suggest that Sadie Parker-Edison's problems could all be addressed, much less resolved, through baptism.

Abed Nadir: Arrived at the apartment a few minutes after Shirley and Annie. Entrusted with the vacuum cleaner, instructed to run it over every inch of Sadie-accessible carpet. Permitted to imagine the evening as an elaborate _Ocean's Eleven_ -type caper.

Troy Barnes: Asked to not make any new messes.

Britta Perry: Directed to entertain Troy in the privacy of his bedroom where any new messes would not spill over into the rest of the apartment. Pet-fur roller run discreetly over her clothes.

Pierce Hawthorne: Offer to supply wine and spirits graciously accepted. Offer to DJ very reluctantly accepted. Volunteered for emergency trip to store to buy Paul Simon CDs, despite existence of iTunes and many other services.

Jeff Winger: Collected Dean Craig Pelton and Professor Martin Cligoris. Briefed them on importance of creating good impression. Apologized to Professor Cligoris for use of strong language during briefing. Led efforts to comfort, reassure Annie.

Annie Edison: Set dining room table and card table. Cleaned bathroom and kitchen (working around Shirley as necessary). Fretted.

At five to seven, Annie, Jeff, Shirley, Pierce, Abed, Craig, and Martin sat quietly on the living room's chairs and sofa, with three glasses of wine and three glasses of scotch distributed among them (Abed declined alcohol while he was on a caper). Britta and Troy lounged nearby, sitting at the card table. No one spoke for several seconds.

"That smells delicious, Shirley," the dean offered, after the silence had become unbearable (Pierce had insisted no music be played until Sadie had arrived).

"Thank you," Shirley said brightly. She glanced at Annie. "Although Annie deserves some of the credit."

"Really?" The dean craned his neck towards the kitchen, although Annie sat just a few feet away from him. "I didn't know you cooked, Annie."

"I don't, really," said Annie.

"More than Abed or Troy, definitely," offered Britta.

"Okay, so, she doesn't generally do a lot of cooking, it's true," Jeff declared. "But Annie and Shirley worked together yesterday to make the casserole, which Shirley oversaw the actual cooking of, today."

Annie cleared her throat. "Shirley did almost everything, though."

"No!" Jeff raised a finger as though lecturing. "You helped. If anyone asks… and we all know who I mean by anyone… Annie helped." He shot a meaningful glare around the group.

Martin Cligoris tilted his head. "I don't know who you mean by anyone. Do you mean Annie's mother?"

"Try to keep up, Martin," the dean said with a sniff.

"I said it was a bad idea to bring him in," said Abed. "I don't think we can trust him. We can do this job without him. We should have gotten Duncan for this."

Jeff shook his head. "He wasn't available this week."

Martin stammered a bit. "I was told all I need to do was show up and be polite to Annie's mother and I get a free meal out of it. And wine," he added, sipping from his glass.

"Pop quiz, hotshot," said Pierce suddenly. "Who's Annie?"

Martin blinked, and pointed towards her.

Annie held up her hands, and tried to calm everyone down. "This really isn't —"

"Second question!" barked Pierce. "Give me three adjectives that you'd use to describe her to her mother!"

"Um." Martin blinked, nonplussed. "Dedicated, intelligent… driven?"

"Uhh!" Pierce made a sound not unlike a buzzer. "Wrong! Dedicated and driven are the same thing! I agree with Aybed. This isn't amateur hour."

"You guys," said Annie, "you're doing that thing where we turn on an outsider without any provocation. Don't Todd Professor Cligoris!"

Britta perked up. "Is Todd's name a verb now?"

"Don't worry," Troy assured her. "You're still special." He patted her on the back.

"I don't understand what's happening," complained Martin.

Pierce rose to his feet. "Troy, Jeff, help me lock Cligoris in Troy's room."

"Why my room?" Troy asked. "I got all my stuff in there!"

Jeff reached over and pulled Pierce back down into his seat. "We're not doing that. Professor Cligoris will be allowed to leave quietly."

"Jeff!" hissed Annie.

"Or he can stay," Jeff continued. He would have said more, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Okay, everybody act natural!"

"You got lucky," Pierce told Martin coldly.

Acting natural did not come easily to the group. Shirley rushed to the kitchen as Annie hurried to answer the door. Troy stared at his hands in confusion.

"What do I usually do with my hands?" he asked no one in particular. "I don't sit with them in my pockets, I don't let them hang… do I fold them in my lap?" He assumed a rapid series of increasingly strained poses, his fingers interwoven or not, legs crossed or not.

Annie checked the time: not quite seven. _Now or never_ , she thought. Actually the idea of not opening the door, and just never seeing Sadie again, was undeniably appealing. Still, she opened the door.

It would have been appropriate if it hadn't been her mother, if it were a police officer or a confused pizza-delivery man, or Chang. But no. Sadie Parker-Edison, in a suit, hair styled for the occasion, and holding a bottle of wine. "Hello, Annie," she said, smiling. "I was beginning to worry I had the wrong day or time or address."

By sheer effort of will, Annie resisted the urge to stare at her feet and mumble. "No, this is us and here and now… come in, come in, please. Can I get your coat?"

"Of course," Sadie replied. "And I brought a bottle of wine."

Annie snatched the bottle from Sadie and turned to quickly set it down. The closest possible receptacle turned out to be not a tabletop but Jeff's hands — he had come up behind her.

"Hello, Sadie," he said. "You're looking well."

"Oh, you flatterer." _Your boyfriend is still a liar._ Sadie slipped off her coat and handed it to Annie. "I didn't realize you were having so many people over," she said, seeing the crowd behind Jeff and Annie. "I should have brought more wine." _Your friends are, after all, a collection of alcoholics_. _Little wonder, given your own weakness and addiction._

Annie winced, and tried to shut that voice out. "Not at all," she said, hanging the coat in the hall closet and cursing her lack of foresight and failure to clean out the filthy, squalid closet. "Please, I'd like you to meet everyone…"


	28. 4a09: Watergate and Maternity III

WATERGATE AND MATERNITY

ACT THREE

* * *

By quarter past seven, Abed and Troy had retreated to Troy's room. Martin Cligoris had remembered a prior engagement, so sorry, Annie was a wonderful student and a credit to Greendale, got to go. Britta was pinned down on the sofa, Sadie next to her and blocking the relative safety of the bedroom. Jeff stood in the kitchen, grimly knocking back more scotch than was probably wise, passing the bottle back and forth with Shirley as they both worked up the courage to return to the fray. Annie, Pierce, and the dean were scattered around the sitting area. Pierce and the dean were engaged in a spirited discussion about whether Greendale Community College's problems stemmed from terrible management or from lack of funding.

"So Ann," Sadie said brightly, as though she weren't the center of a psychic maelstrom ripping the apartment apart, "a little bird tells me you're taking the LSAT next week."

Annie had been on guard for any of a dozen different conversational gambits, but this hadn't been among them. "Yes," she said cautiously. Part of her wondered how her mother had found out about this. Even discounting Sadie's supernatural powers (up until the age of six Annie had seriously believed her mother could and did work black magic), there were so many possibilities.

"Tell me, what are your plans? I remember a few years ago you had your mind made up: Saint Luke's or bust." Sadie gestured grandly, then leaned in. "Do you think you need more time in school before you'll be ready to face the challenges of the real world? Or have you often dreamed of the law, lawyers, a lawyer…?"

"I've reconsidered hospital administration." Annie chose her words carefully. "Law school can lead to several possible paths…"

"But surely you have one in mind." Sadie glanced at Britta, who was gamely trying to a) not cry despite what Sadie had said to her six minutes previously and b) look like someone who was paying attention to, and participating in, the conversation. "Or am I unreasonable in my expectations?"

"No, I'm not just… I do have a plan," Annie stammered. She wanted badly to avoid mentioning the FBI; on some level she was certain her mother would supply a devastating series of explanations as to why it was absurd and childish to want to become an FBI agent.

* * *

SOME OF THE THINGS SADIE PARKER-EDISON TOLD HER DAUGHTER IT WAS ABSURD AND CHILDISH TO WANT:

 _A pony_

 _Her parents to not divorce and indeed to reconcile_

 _Friends among her elementary, junior high, and high school peers_

 _Confidence to deal with stress without pharmaceutical assistance_

 _Pizza_

 _A bachelor's degree in history, biology, or English, followed by an advanced degree in law, medicine, or journalism_

 _A cell phone her mother couldn't access remotely_

 _To quit cheerleading after the team bus 'forgot' her at a Taco Bell_

 _Swimming lessons_

 _High-heeled shoes_

 _Joy_

* * *

SOME OF THE THINGS SADIE PARKER-EDISON TOLD HER DAUGHTER IT WAS MATURE AND APPROPRIATE TO WANT:

 _Braces_

 _Magnets (Sadie Parker-Edison believed firmly in the healing power of magnets)_

 _Being slightly underweight_

 _A prescription for Adderall_

 _Brunch_

 _A bachelor's degree in business, hospital administration, sociology or economics, potentially followed by an MBA._

 _An administrative position at a hospital where she would be in position to meet an attractive and intelligent doctor_

 _Marriage to said doctor, 2.3 children, and a large house someone else is paid to clean_

 _Control_

* * *

"Oh, please! I would love to hear it." Sadie's tone was so patronizing that even the dean trailed off. "Tell me, exactly what do you think you're going to do? How do you intend to move forward from your current," she paused to glance meaningfully around the apartment, "situation?"

"Well, I think one thing we can all agree on is that our Annie is not someone to bet against." Jeff sat down on the sofa next to Annie's mother, eyes slightly wild. "Craig?"

The dean blinked. "Yes, Jeffrey?" he asked, then seemed to realize that Jeff wanted him to expound on Annie's virtues. "I mean, of course. Annie Edison is, I hope you don't mind me saying Annie, I don't want to put you on the spot but really everyone here, including Martin who left, everyone here is absolutely of one mind when it comes to…" He lost his train of thought. "I'm sure Martin had a good reason for leaving," he said suddenly. "Some kind of crisis. We do take, um, crises very seriously at Greendale, isn't that right?" Panicking, the dean punted. "Pierce?"

Pierce, who had been taking a slow sip of scotch, coughed at the sound of his name. "Uh, yes, absolutely. I'm on the Greendale board, and, uh, definitely we pay close attention to the needs of the study body, and, uh…"

Sadie cut Pierce off with nothing more than a sharp inhalation of breath. "I'm sure you do absolutely fine work, but that doesn't address my question to Ann. Unless I misunderstand?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I want to keep my options open…" Annie began.

"And which options would those be, exactly?" Sadie asked, almost laughing. "Are you thinking of becoming a criminal defense attorney? Tax law? Real estate law? Corporate litigation? Environmental? That's a very hot specialty nowadays, I'm led to believe."

"No, Mother," Annie said firmly, trying not to sound agitated. "Law school can lead into, um…" She fumbled for words that wouldn't give her mother a chance to mock the idea of Special Agent Annie Edison, FBI. "Into a variety of governmental positions…"

Sadie snapped her fingers and straightened up triumphantly. "Politics! You plan on running for office, and you wanted to surprise me. But I've gone and spoiled your game by guessing it. What do I win?"

"I'm not planning on running for office…"

"Of course, of course," Sadie cooed. "I remember when you ran for vice-president of the stamp club in sixth grade, but what you lack in poise and charisma you can more than make up for with dedication and preparation."

"No, it's not that," Annie tried.

"And it's true that your embarrassing and misspent youth is just that," Sadie continued, "but on a small enough stage no one will care enough to bother to dig up the skeletons in your closet…"

And with that, Annie snapped. "No, mother, I'm not going to run for office! I want to go to law school because it's the quickest route into the FBI!"

Shirley picked that moment to emerge from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready, if everyone will…" She trailed off, seeing the aghast looks on various faces.

Sadie emitted a low, mordant chuckle. "Oh, Ann, you're not serious. The FBI? Are you twelve? I want to be proud of you, I do! I want that so much, but you make it so, so difficult."

There was a long, awkward silence.

Jeff was the first to break it. "Apologize to Annie." he said quietly.

Sadie laughed, as though Jeff were a hilarious clown. "I beg your pardon?"

"Jeff, you don't need to —" Annie started, but he cut her off with an angry grunt.

"No, I think I do. For the last four years you've been nothing to Annie except a bad memory. You weren't there when she was in rehab, or when she was living in a terrible neighborhood above Dildopolis, which was exactly the kind of place it sounds like. Or any of the times she picked herself up off the mat and kept going long after anyone else would have given up. Now, after she's almost made it through Greendale, when she's moving on to better things, you come in… just to order her not to go to law school, of all things? Apologize!"

"Please, Mr. Winger." Sadie's tone was pure condescension. "I'm her mother… I'm your mother, Ann," she said, turning to her daughter. "I love you and I will always love you, no matter what choices you make, or how you try to hurt me and shut me out of your life, or whatever your so-called friends say to insult me. Because I'm your family."

"No." Annie slowly shook her head. "No, you're… these people are my family. They spent all weekend helping me. They came here tonight to support me, because I needed it, because of you. They didn't ask any questions. Except 'what time do you need me,' and 'what should I bring,' and stuff like that, which, that's not the same. They're all here for moral support, and… and Shirley cooked. It was all Shirley…."

"I had assumed that," Sadie responded coldly.

At some point in there Annie had risen to her feet. "And it was for what? To impress you? I'm graduating in the spring, with a bachelor's degree that might not be the greatest, but it's mine and I earned it, with fake rockets, and pottery, and a class on ladders…" Annie realized she was losing the thread of her argument, and drove the point home. "But nothing I could do would be good enough. Because no matter what I do, no matter how much you bully me or what you say or what I say that I think you want to hear, I'll still be the daughter who walked out instead of letting you run my life a moment longer."

Sadie smirked, the way Annie knew she did when she felt insulted. "Sweetie, you're making a scene," she said gently, sipping her wine.

"No, I'm not. Or if I am, I don't care, because I'm among people who aren't going to judge me for it. I'm with my family."

Annie's mother glanced around the room. "I see. I remember being your age, you know," she said, rising. "Thought I knew everything, dropped out of college when your father got me pregnant without consulting me. A man I didn't even like, but whom I tried to love, because your grandmother hated him so much." She drained her wineglass, and set it neatly on a coaster on the coffee table. "I'd hoped I could spare you my mistakes, but I see you're determined to repeat them. Best of luck." She stepped around the sofa, heading to the apartment door. Eight pairs of eyes watched her (Troy and Abed having emerged from Troy's room to investigate the hubbub). "I'm sure you'll need it, given your obstinance and insistence on adhering to bad plans," Sadie added, as she took her coat from the closet.

At the door she turned, and surveyed the group. "It was lovely meeting you all," she said, "although I'm sure Ann will convince you otherwise. I hope we can do this again someday soon."

The square echo of the door closing behind Sadie Parker-Edison reverberated in Annie's ears.

For a moment no one said anything.

"Annie?" Shirley sounded timid. "You did help, for what it's worth." This prompted a chorus of agreement, although not everyone sounded entirely clear on what it was they were agreeing on.

"Of course, thank you so much, Shirley." Annie straightened up and smiled a grateful smile. "You guys are the best. You guys!" She held out her arms, first for Jeff, then Shirley, then Troy and Britta and Abed and Pierce and the dean, who hadn't left.

"I thought this would be funny, or at least charming, like an episode of _Gilmore Girls_ ," said Abed to no one in particular, from within the slightly unwieldy group hug. "Instead it was sad and also life-affirming, like a bad episode of _Gilmore Girls_."

* * *

Tuesday morning found Troy ensconced in the great hall of the AC Repair Annex, in a box seat that had been constructed for the occasion. Britta sat to his right, on a padded bench inscribed with about twenty images of big-eyed kittens. She'd complained, but the carpenter's-assistant majors who'd thrown the bench together over the weekend had meant well. Plus Teddy the Mead-Poursman was on hand to keep her topped off. Troy had questioned Britta's decision to start drinking so early in the day, but she'd retorted that the mead was lower in actual alcohol content than all but the most non-alcoholic of beers, and if it helped her get through this AC Repair Annex bull hockey, surely that was worth it.

Troy wasn't sure that the mead was appreciably low in alcohol content, but he had to concede the second point.

Abed sat at Troy's left, on the traditional apple-crate that was the traditional throne of the Repairman's bride, concubine, mistress, or special lady-friend. Troy had tried to get him to swap seats with Britta, when they'd come in, but Britta had pointed out that the kitten bench had her name literally carved in the back in Gothic lettering.

Vice-Dean Jerry, seated at Abed's left, rubbed his hands in anticipation. "This year's harvest rite is going to be the best we've ever done, I think! The extra six weeks of prep time is really going to pay off, you'll see," he said to Troy.

"Cool," said Troy. He glanced down the box. On Britta's other side were five more seats. "Who are the extra seats for? The ghosts of vice-deans past?"

Jerry chuckled. "Very funny joke, sire. The ghosts are seated in the Hall of Resplendent Spirits. They'll be watching on closed-circuit TV."

Troy nodded. "I'm just going to let that one go. But the other seats?"

"Those are for Greendale's board," Abed informed him. "They're traditionally invited, although they haven't attended since the catastrophic Great Fire of 1985, when over three dozen scale models of the Greendale campus were destroyed. The Annex great hall was double-booked with the Build Your Own Greendale model Greendale contest, that year."

"You know your AC Repair history!" commented an appreciative Jerry.

Abed shrugged. "It's important to Troy, so it's important to me." He took a swig from his goblet of mead. "Plus if I show up to this stuff I get free mead."

"I know, right?" Britta said.

"I don't know how you two drink that stuff," Troy muttered. "No offense, Teddy." A thought struck him. "Pierce is on the board now, isn't he?"

"Yeah," said Britta, "but I don't think he'd… oh, speak of the devil." She tilted her head in the direction of the great hall's main entrance, where Pierce had just appeared. He dashed to the royal box and dropped heavily into the seat next to Britta.

"We don't have much time," Pierce said, panting. He adjusted his necktie and took a few deep breaths.

"Mead?" offered the Mead-Poursman, thrusting a goblet towards him.

"Aah!" Pierce reacted as though Teddy shoved a dead rat in his face, shrieking and batting it away. The goblet fell on the floor of the box, spilling mead across the walkway in front of the chairs.

"My fault," Teddy said quickly, dropping to his knees and swabbing up the spill.

"Give a man some warning," grumbled Pierce. "Who wants mead at this hour? I'm not even at a Renaissance Fair!"

"Thank you!" cried Troy. "At last someone who gets it."

"Is the rest of the board coming?" Abed asked Pierce. "If they're not I think we should switch seats so that the mead-drinkers are on one side and the non-mead-drinkers are on the other."

"Oh, the rest of the board!" Pierce winced. "I almost — brace yourselves for a shock."

"What is it?" asked Abed, interested.

"What I'm about to say will chill you to your very core!"

"What?" asked Troy.

"You may have thought things weren't going to escalate, but man, you've got another think coming if that's what you think!"

"Jesus Christ, Pierce, out with it!" cried Britta.

"Hello!" cried Sadie Parker-Edison from the great hall entrance.

Pierce shuddered. "I ran to warn you. She's joined the board."

Troy's eyes widened. "No!"

"Yes!" hissed Pierce.

"How?" asked Britta.

"Carl! Richie!" Sadie called over her shoulder. The two men stumbled in behind her. They looked drunk, but no more so than usual.

"Coming!" shouted Carl, far louder than was necessary.

"Right here," said Richie, at a volume only a little closer to normal.

The three walked, staggered, and staggered, respectively, to the royal box. Sadie smiled coldly. "Hello, Abed, Troy, Britta. Vice-Dean Clayton." She nodded at Jerry before looking down at Teddy, still swabbing at her feet. "Most gracious Mead-Poursman," she intoned, "may we hear the lesson of the bees and may we quaff deep the honeydew of wisdom." She sounded like she was quoting something.

Teddy looked up, surprised. "We act on the line and we brew the potions of the queen," he replied, in the same reverent tone. "The drink, like poetry, avails all who partake."

"None for me, thanks, it's just too early," Sadie said brightly, and sat down next to Pierce. "I'm sure Carl and Richie would appreciate some, though."

As Carl and Richie took their seats, Jerry shot Troy a look that meant either _sorry boss tradition dictates she be allowed_ or possibly _do you want me to dispatch the electrician-assassins to murder her?_ Troy wasn't sure he had access to electrician-assassins, so went with the first interpretation and sighed heavily.

Sadie turned towards him. "Now, I've already said this to Pierce, but the three of you should hear it, too. I'm completely willing to forgive you all for the events of last night. And for my part, I regret that you had to be party to such a…" She stared into the middle distance, as though trying to find the right word. "Scene, between my daughter and myself. I'm sure she's apologized to you as well, but if not, please allow me to extend heartfelt apologies on her behalf… oh!" Sadie glanced at the front of the great hall. "They're starting."

As the giant wicker head of Richard Nixon was rolled out and the fire alarms ceremonially disabled, Sadie Parker-Edison emitted a happy sigh. "We'll get all this squared away," she said, watching Quendra (in her role as the virgin harvest sacrifice) climb in through a hatch in Nixon's right ear. One of the air conditioning repairmen hefted a torch of almost Olympic stature, and set it to the kindling.

"Don't worry, children," said Sadie as the flames climbed the wicker head of Richard Nixon. "Everything's going to be fine."


	29. 4a10: Senior Seminar I

As always, thanks to bethanyactually and amrywiol for their beta-reading and notes.

* * *

SENIOR SEMINAR ON FIDUCIARY DUTY

ACT ONE

* * *

" 'A philosopher says the following. Becoming an MBA is a sign of high potential. MBAs have, historically, enjoyed career success. Not all students who seek to become MBAs succeed. Socrates is an MBA. Therefore Socrates enjoyed career success,' " Annie read aloud. " 'Which of the following statements, if true, would most weaken the philosopher's argument?' "

Jeff's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Socrates is an MBA?"

Annie nodded without looking up. "Apparently. 'A. Socrates was awarded his MBA posthumously,' " she continued. " 'B. Career success cannot be measured objectively. C. Diploma mill schools like Greendale award MBAs to anyone that fills out the paperwork…' "

"It doesn't say Greendale." Jeff leaned over. "Does it?"

The two lounged on the couch in Annie, Abed, and Troy's apartment. Jeff had wanted to do LSAT prep at his place, but Annie had pointed out that when they were at his place very little studying tended to get done. In all probability Annie could have studied more effectively without Jeff, but then Jeff wouldn't have been there. Jeff had no plans to take the LSAT, but that hadn't stopped him from taking LSAT Prep I last semester and LSAT Prep II this semester; they were part of the block of classes Greendale required for a BA in Legal Studies, the pre-law major Jeff had eventually settled on.

"It could," Annie grumbled. "Greendale hasn't suddenly stopped being a joke of a school."

Jeff looked at her, frowning. "That doesn't sound like you. Greendale pride, right? If anyone's going to talk about the terrible nature of Greendale, it should be me!"

Annie scoffed. "You just need to graduate and then you get reinstated as a lawyer; it doesn't matter that you're getting your degree from the number one most disreputable college on the state's list of most disreputable colleges, a list that included Diplomas Online Dot Biz University and the Not-a-Scam 'School' of 'Arts' and 'Sciences,' asterisk, 'not a real school,' " she said, making finger-quotes. "Even assuming I score well on the LSAT I'll still have Greendale on my applications."

"If you want to go to law school, you have to take the LSAT," Jeff reminded her. "If you want to go to law school."

She arched her eyebrows. "It's the fastest way to the FBI Academy."

"It's _a_ way to the FBI Academy. It's not the only way." Jeff shook his head slightly. He didn't want to have this discussion again.

"Do you think I couldn't do it?" Annie asked him bluntly. "A bunch of idiots make it through law school and become lawyers. No offense, but you used to work with them."

"Of course you can do it," Jeff said with a snort. "You can do basically anything."

"Aw," she said, looking down at the ground.

"Listen," Jeff said as though he were telling her a little-known secret, "the only reason our economic and political systems are as screwed up as they are, is that you haven't yet turned your mind to fixing them."

She laughed, and for a moment they just grinned at each other like a couple of idiots.

Jeff broke eye contact first. "But I never had much cause to regret not going to law school. It's an expensive piece of paper you'd be breaking your back for three years for."

"Well, not everyone can lie their way into the bar exam." Annie grimaced. "I thought you'd be pleased at the law school idea, you know."

He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. "I support you whatever decision you make, you know that," he said. "You don't think Greendale has been enough of an education?"

"What was I just saying, you goof?" Annie threw up her hands. "I get into law school, suddenly there's something above Greendale on my resume. I don't think anyone anywhere has ever said, 'Ooh, your degree is from Greendale Community College? I hear that's a great school!' It's more like, 'Ooh, your degree is from Greendale Community College? I'm sorry, we want someone a little more qualified for this unpaid internship at the dog food factory.' "

"Dog food factory?" repeated Jeff.

"I don't know! You know what I mean."

"Yeah, okay," Jeff admitted, "but you love Greendale. I'm pretty sure you love Greendale."

"I guess." She sighed. "I almost transferred out several times, you know."

Jeff nodded, then shook his head. "Wait, no. Several times? When? Recently?"

Annie shook her head. "The last time was right before the Old West paintball game. You remember…"

"I remember your outfit," Jeff said wistfully.

"Please." She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again. "That was such a frustrating week. I thought you were being a jerk… I mean, everybody was, but mostly you."

"Fair enough," Jeff said, remembering.

"I didn't go through with it, though, and then in the wave of school spirit that escalated into kissing Abed while the library was flooded with paint…"

Jeff sputtered. "Wait, what?"

"…I didn't go through with it, I said." Annie gazed into the middle distance. "I hadn't actually thought about that in, oh, not since it happened."

"Rewind and play back," Jeff said sharply. "You kissed Abed?"

Her smile broadened. "Are you jealous?"

"Kind of, yeah!" His tone suggested he was more than 'kind of' jealous.

"This was almost two years ago," she reminded him. "Earlier that same day you patted me on the head."

"It was barely a year and a half ago, and…" Jeff sighed. "I don't have a leg to stand on, here."

She shook her head. "No, you don't."

"I patted you on the head?"

She snickered a little. "Yes, you did, Vicious comma Sid."

Jeff opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Vicious comma Sid?"

"I was trying a thing and it didn't work. Never mind…" Annie hefted her LSAT prep book and scooted away from him on the couch — somehow she'd ended up all up in his personal space, in the last minute or so. "We should get back to this. I'm taking the exam the day after tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah." Jeff rubbed his eyes. "When will you get out?"

"Three. I'll call you and tell you how it went right after. Then we can meet at… I don't know, we'll figure it out." She shrugged. "And then Morty's Steak House for dinner! You love Morty's Steak House!" Annie smiled at him before turning back to the prep book. "Now, as I was saying. 'Becoming an MBA is a sign of high potential…' "

Jeff nodded, then started. "Wait, no. You distracted me with promises of steak and scurrilous kissing-Abed stories," he said, pointing accusingly at her. "What's with your accurate, but uncharacteristically harsh, assessment of Greendale?"

Annie scowled. "I was looking at the Sturm website," she said, referring to the Sturm School of Law, the closest and most reputable law school in the state. "And entrance requirements and selectivity and… maybe even if I'm the best student at Greendale, which I'm not anyway, technically that honor goes to someone who didn't have to take Biology 301 twice… I just don't know if a degree from Greendale is even worth getting. My mother…"

"Your mother," Jeff interrupted, "is wrong about basically everything."

"Maybe." Annie looked down at the prep book, then back up at Jeff. "I just… I thought I would be okay, you know? When I kicked her out of my life, again. And I knew that… ugh. It's just, getting confirmation that even now, years later, she still thinks I'm…" She trailed off with a heavy sigh.

"Hey." Jeff waited until she looked him in the eyes before continuing. "My Annie is the greatest person I know. You can doubt that, if you want, but I don't. And I'm always right, so it'd be foolish to disagree with me on this one."

"I know. I mean, thank you," Annie replied. "But Mother is still out there, you know? And now she's on the board. She isn't going to just give up, not after putting herself out and making the first move and letting me kick her out after…"

"Hey, hey, hey." Jeff reached over and rubbed her arm. "You got away from her," he said. "You got out, and you've been on your own, and you've done fine, better than fine. There's nothing more she can do to you." Jeff hoped that was true, at least. "It's not like the board has any real power. They let Pierce on, after all."

* * *

Noon was as early as the board ever met. In the past they'd held their meetings at the TGIFriday's, usually after eight, always with an open bar courtesy the city of Greendale. Eventually, however, the rest of the board resigned in disgust, leaving just Carl and Richie as two members of a five-seat board. With the addition of Pierce the board was able to pass motions requiring a three-fifths majority.

But Sadie Parker-Edison had upset the apple cart, by calling meetings at her lawyer's office downtown, and by failing to provide gin, bourbon, vodka, tequila, or even beer.

"The AC Repair School at least has mead," grumbled Richie as he looked around the conference room. It gleamed with the efforts of badly-paid custodial staff. A table in the corner held a tray of glasses and a pitcher of ice water, but no scotch to mix with it. The K-Cup machine in an alcove a short distance down the hall could provide coffee, but not Irish coffee. It was, in short, dullsville.

"I know, and I do apologize," Sadie Parker-Edison cooed. "I really couldn't manage any other time or place. You do understand, I hope?" Without waiting for a reply she flicked on a recorder on the table in front of her. "Greendale community college board of trustees, meeting of the sixth of December, 2012. Mercedes Ann Parker-Edison, presiding. Also present are Carl Hoffmann…"

"Here," said Carl, into the recorder.

"You can just speak normally, Carl," Sadie told him. "Richard Abnett?"

"Here."

"And Pierce Hawthorne."

"Present," declared Pierce. He glanced at the fifth attendee of the meeting: the dean, seated to Pierce's right. "As is Craig Pelton."

"Yes, thank you Pierce." Sadie dripped with condescension. "Although the first order of business must, regrettably, be to ask Dean Pelton to leave. This is a closed meeting." She stared at the dean until he cracked and dropped his head down to examine the floor; this did not take long.

"I was told, uh…" the dean mumbled.

"I'll handle this, Craig," Pierce assured him. Pierce had sat in on a lot of board meetings over the years, and wasn't about to let Annie's mother rattle him. "I move that Craig Pelton be appointed to fill the vacant seat on the board."

"Second," said Carl, raising a hand.

Sadie folded her hands on the table in front of her. "I'm afraid I can't discuss this while Mr. Pelton is present, for the obvious reasons."

"Oh, come on," complained Pierce.

"No, no, she's right," mumbled the dean. He stood and bowed slightly towards Sadie before retreating out the conference room door.

"Don't go far!" Pierce called after him.

"Well now," said Sadie, smiling. "I have to say this suggestion takes me somewhat by surprise. Is Mr. Pelton not already sufficiently challenged by his current responsibilities?"

"The board is still short a member," Pierce countered. "He's certainly qualified and the duties of the board take up only a few hours a month, as you know."

"He may be qualified," Sadie conceded. "I really couldn't say one way or the other. However I do question the notion that he's the best-qualified candidate available." Her tone softened with concern. "Likewise it seems at least possible that he would suffer a conflict of interest on a variety of relevant issues, from administrative pay to interactions with the teacher's union…"

"There isn't a teacher's union at Greendale," snapped Pierce.

"Currently, no," Sadie agreed with palpable relief. "That would doubtless be extremely disruptive to the learning process. Disputes between labor and management could have a negative impact on the education of those currently enrolled at Greendale. As one of our most prominent alums, I would think this would concern you, as well. I know Hawthorne Paper Products secured several extremely favorable union contracts under your auspices."

"That's not relevant in the slightest." _She's trying to rattle you_ , Pierce reminded himself. _She wants you to lose your temper and say something stupid. This is just like the bidding for the Atlanta Olympics paper-towel contract._ "Let's stick to the subject at hand."

"Of course," Sadie crooned, smiling at him. It was not a smile Pierce found comforting; when she smiled like that she resembled her daughter even more strongly than usual. "As you say, the board is currently potentially deadlocked, with four voting members. I propose the formation of a subcommittee to recruit a civic leader willing to donate his or her time, one who will not risk any exposure to conflicts of interest."

"Second," said Carl.

"We don't need to be so formal, Carl," Sadie assured him. "The quicker we get this done the quicker we can all be getting lunch in the brew pub across the street."

"Fine," said Pierce. "I volunteer to head up this subcommittee, and as the head of the subcommittee I report that Craig Pelton is a fine choice whose only conflicts of interest would stem from issues the board hasn't considered in the last ten years at least, and I nominate him to fill the empty seat."

"Second," said Carl.

Sadie said nothing for a moment. "Richard? Richie?" she asked the other board member.

"Huh?" he started, as though woken from sleep. "Sorry, I was just thinking about… a brew pub, huh?"

"Right across the street, yes," Sadie said. She reached over and covered one of Richie's hands with her own. "Soon, I promise," she told him solemnly.

"This is boring," complained Carl. "Can't we just vote already?"

Sadie chuckled like a mother indulging her favorite son. "I can see we aren't going to be spending a lot of time debating this," she said. "All right, all right. Let's vote on it. I vote yes. Pierce?"

Pierce blinked. "You vote yes?"

Sadie nodded.

"Yes, Craig should join the board?"

She nodded again.

"I vote yes, too," Pierce said, suddenly fearful.

"Carl? Richie?" Sadie asked, without breaking eye contact with Pierce.

"Yes," the two men said in unison.

"It's unanimous then," Sadie said cheerfully. She smiled warmly at Pierce. "As of the end of this meeting, Dean Pelton is on the board. Would you like to go tell him? We can take a brief break." She leaned forward and clicked the recorder off.

"Sure…" Pierce rose carefully from this chair and backed out of the room, unwilling to turn his back on Sadie Parker-Edison. _She's in your head!_ he upbraided himself. _Keep cool, Pierce!_

The dean was in a small waiting room at the end of the hall, reading a magazine. He looked up as Pierce entered. "Over so quickly?"

Pierce shook his head. "No… you've been elected to the board. Congratulations."

"Thank you!" the dean said sunnily, but then his face fell. "You don't seem very pleased about it. This was your idea, Pierce. The two of us against her, you said. For Annie, you said."

"I know," Pierce said. He glanced over his shoulder at the conference room. "I just… I don't know."

"Well, should I go home and change?" asked the dean.

Pierce looked at him. "What would you… never mind. No, it's not effective until the next meeting. Which is scheduled for January… I'm going to go back in there," he decided. "Wait here."

"Okay!" The dean called, as Pierce dashed back towards the conference room. He checked his bag. "You know, I could just change here," he mused.

* * *

Sadie Parker-Edison waited until she was alone in the conference room before taking a moment to collect herself. He was infuriating, this handsome idiot her daughter had latched onto as a father figure. He refused to just let her take care of things, like the other two idiots; he kept sticking his oar in. Usually men didn't like to make fools of themselves in front of her, but Pierce Hawthorne was fearless in the worst way. He argued with her, as though he didn't care about exposing his wrong opinions and erroneous beliefs. He refused to kowtow to her superior knowledge of procedure, and he insisted on bulling his way through her plans.

Fortunately she'd thought of a way to neutralize Pierce's imp Pelton. It wasn't going to be cheap or simple, but nothing worth doing was. Sadie Parker-Edison hadn't invested this much time in taking control of the Greendale Community College board only to surrender at the first sign of resistance. And if Pierce couldn't be bullied or intimidated, well, there were other ways to handle men.

When Pierce returned to the room a few moments later he found Sadie there, alone, seemingly engaged in a phone call. She held up one finger as he opened his mouth to question her.

"No," she told the phone, as though the other end were some estranged relation, rather than the speaking clock. "No, I don't care. That's not my problem… then you should have thought of that. It's not my fault if you insist on making things harder for yourself… no."

Sadie made eye contact with Pierce and rolled her eyes with a theatrical sigh.

"I accept your apology," she said a moment later. "Yes, of course. I'll see you then. Good-bye." She hung up with a sad little sigh. "Do you have children?" she asked Pierce, despite knowing full well he did not.

"Was that Annie?" Pierce asked despite himself.

Sadie looked nonplussed. "What? No. My daughter and only child is not, regrettably, currently returning my calls. Do you have children yourself, Pierce?" she asked again. According to her dossier, he did have a handful of step-children, at least one of which he felt some parental affection for.

Pierce raised an eyebrow. "Only step-children. Ex-step-children… where are Carl and Richie?"

Outwardly, Sadie remained placid, but inwardly she cursed the man's stubborn refusal to let her take control of the conversation. She tutted as she turned the recorder back on. "They just couldn't sit still. Like children, really. Said something about the bar and grill across the street. I couldn't keep them here a moment longer." She smiled helplessly, as though a silly woman like herself couldn't possibly be expected to keep up with clever men like Pierce and his kind.

"Uh huh." Pierce slowly sat down, maintaining eye contact with Sadie as he did so. Was that a flicker of interest she saw?

(For his part, Pierce wasn't sure what Sadie was playing at; was she going to come at him with a knife? Attempt erotic persuasion? Play on his sympathies by claiming to be an aggrieved parent suffering the sharper tooth of Annie's rejection? Of those possibilities he would definitely have preferred erotic persuasion. Maybe Edison women liked older men, he thought with some hope.)

"But I did get their signatures on these." Sadie pulled a pair of packets from her briefcase and spread them on the table in front of Pierce. Buffy had drawn them up for her the night before, when Sadie's plan had been to drive all three of the men off the board, but things had taken a different turn. "Proxy statements, authorizing me to cast votes on their behalf."

"Oh," said Pierce, visibly disappointed. Whether it was because of the proxies or because she'd stopped making bedroom eyes at him, Sadie couldn't say. The latter would have been more convenient, but if wishful thinking accomplished anything than Sadie wouldn't have wasted her youth. It was too late for Sadie, but not for her daughter, not if Sadie could save her from herself.

She and Pierce looked at one another for a moment, and then he did a double take, which was very encouraging. "Wait, what?" Pierce picked up one of the packets and peered at the dense jargon. "These can't possibly be binding," he declared. "If board members could be enticed to sign away their voting powers someone would have tried it on me back at Hawthorne Paper Products."

The man was a bulldog. Sadie almost admired his tenacity. Calling on years of practice, she covered her frustration with condescension. "I know, I know," she said indulgently. "Corporate governance rules, blah blah blah." She made a face, as though she were a kindergarten teacher explaining to her class about lima beans or brussels sprouts. "But the Greendale board bylaws were modified earlier this year, it turns out, so that you could be appointed to the board without a quorum of board members approving. Since a quorum wasn't possible when only two of the five seats were filled?"

"Yes," Pierce said slowly. "But board votes can't be proxied; changing the rules to allow me to join wouldn't change that…"

"I hate to disagree, Pierce." Sadie smiled as he finally blinked, rattled by her confidence. There was one other avenue of attack open. "Whoever revised the Greendale board rules was extremely sloppy. I suppose that's what you get when you let a disbarred amateur slobber drunkenly on your charter documents."

"Hey!" Pierce bristled. "Firstly, Jeff had nothing to do with…"

 _Damn_ , she thought, _apparently despite all their differences he'll still defend the man when push comes to shove. Stupid loyal stubborn handsome generous idiot._ It didn't matter, though. "Of course." Sadie raised her hands and moved in for the kill. "Now, currently we lack a quorum of members, since you and I are only two-fifths of the board. We'll have to take this up tomorrow. This is your required twenty-four hour notice of an unscheduled board meeting. I do hope you and Mr. Pelton can both attend; we have a great deal to discuss."

Pierce sighed, and considered. Sadie could guess as to his thought process. The dean would be a full voting member of the board as of the next meeting. Pierce's plan, such as it was, had been for the two of them to form a two-person bloc that could wheedle at least one of Carl or Richie, if not both, into voting against anything Sadie proposed. Not that Sadie had actually proposed anything yet, true, but no doubt her daughter had convinced Pierce that Sadie's goals were the destruction of all that was good in the world.

They both knew that with the voting proxies she now had, Sadie effectively cast three votes to Pierce and the dean's two; enough to ram through whatever policy changes she wanted.

His only hope, Pierce realized, lay in finding Carl and Richie and getting them to rescind their proxy statements. The bar across the street, she'd said… "Excuse me," Pierce said suddenly, and bolted from the room.

"See you tomorrow, Pierce," Sadie called after him. "You handsome idiot," she muttered. "It would have been so much simpler if you'd just let me take care of everything."

The side door connecting the conference room directly to Buffy's office opened. "Hey, did I hear Pierce in here?" Carl asked from the doorway. In his hand was a glass of bourbon from Sadie's lawyer's private supply. "Pierce? Come in and join the party!" Carl glanced around the room.

Sadie shook her head, feigning confusion. "I haven't seen him," she said. "If he doesn't come back we won't be able to finish the meeting."

"Who cares?" Carl turned and signaled to Richie behind him.

Sadie laughed politely, then sobered. "Unfortunately there are still a few dreary items of boring, boring board business," she said sadly. "We'll have to have another meeting tomorrow. Consider this your official notice."

"Aw, man," said Richie. "I don't want to go to another one of these stupid meetings! Tomorrow's the Varsity Match."

"And you have plane tickets to Florida for two weeks at Disney World, leaving tonight," Sadie reminded him. Buying them at the last minute hadn't been cheap, but Sadie would spare no expense where her daughter's future was concerned. Getting rid of interfering idiots was essential. "You remember, the prizes you won for being the ten thousandth visitor to this law office?"

"Oh yeah." Carl nodded. "Say, how is it that Richie and I are both the ten thousandth visitor?"

"Photo finish," Sadie told him.

"Uh…"

"Duh, Carl," Richie told him. "Pay attention, dude."

"So, just to clarify…" Sadie eyed the digital recorder on the table, still making a record of the meeting. "The two of you have been duly informed of the meeting tomorrow, but you don't plan to attend? Which is fine, of course, that's why you signed those proxy statements."

Carl and Richie exchanged glances. "Yeah."

"Okay, great." Sadie nodded, giving no hint of the storm of frustration and anxiety raging inside her. "Well, you should go, if you want to make your flight. I've already had a cab called for you to take to the airport… have one for the road before you go, though, if you like."

"Awesome!" Carl turned back towards the bourbon in the room next door, and let the connecting door swing shut.

Sadie sat alone in the conference room for a few moments, calming herself down, before reaching over and turning off the recorder. She'd taken a lorazepam before the meeting, but it wasn't doing the trick. She dialed the office next door.

"Hello, Buffy?" she said when her attorney answered. "Yes, I'm still in the next room. Be a dear and tell the two men you're getting drunk that they don't allow cell phones in Florida, would you? I don't know, terrorist threats. Just be sure they don't have their phones before they get in the cab… Wonderful, thank you so much."

No, the lorazepam definitely wasn't doing it for her, she decided, and took an alprazolam, too.

* * *

Annie's first clue something was wrong was the skunk smell.

She arrived at the LSAT testing site almost a half an hour before the exam was scheduled. The DU Law campus wasn't hard to find, but just to be on the safe side she'd scouted it out the week before, determining the best place to park and checking travel time in normal traffic. Everything was going according to plan, up until she got out of her car and noticed the smell. Someone had hit a skunk, maybe?

The building doors were blocked by yellow police tape, and she didn't see any lights on inside. The smell seemed to be coming from within the building — a skunk had somehow gotten into the building? She tried the door just in case, front first, then the two sets of side doors. No way in, no lights on, no one else around. There were some suspicious scraps of paper taped to the doors, as though someone had taped up signs and someone else had come along and torn them down, but that didn't give her any useful information.

Annie checked the time. The LSAT was supposed to begin in fifteen minutes. She tried calling the number on the website, which meant navigating a bunch of menu options and eventually inputting her LSAT registration number, which she had to stop and pull from her email. Eventually she reached a human being, and in a brief conversation learned several new facts, of which three were particularly germane.

1\. The LSAT thought her phone number was off by one digit, which was why she hadn't gotten any of the messages they'd sent her.

2\. The messages explained that the night before vandals had set off stink and paint bombs inside the DU Law building where the LSAT was normally given.

3\. The exam had been moved to an alternate location, on the City College campus.

With mounting panic she leaped into her car and sped across town, shouting curses at every red light and rolling through each stop sign. The City College visitor's lot was full, of course, so she circled around for minutes in vain before finally giving up and parking in front of a fire hydrant. Her escalating invective proved to be for naught, as she reached the site of the moved LSAT exam almost five minutes after the text was scheduled to begin. LSAT regulations strictly prohibited admitting test-takers after the exam began. There would be no LSAT for Annie on this day.

Also her car was not just ticketed, but towed.

Ten minutes later Annie sat alone at a table in a coffee shop near City College, trying to compose herself enough to call Jeff. If she had to be the idiot who managed to screw up being at the right place at the right time to be allowed to take a test, she at least didn't want to be the idiot who broke down crying when she called her boyfriend to come get her because she'd parked in front of a fire hydrant and had her car towed.

 _This isn't your fault_ , part of her insisted. _This is Mother, it has to be. Mother did this somehow. Mother planted stinkbombs and paintbombs at the testing site. Mother altered the LSAT registration records so you wouldn't get the messages about it. Mother had your car towed_ …

Blinking back tears, Annie tried to decide whether she would be happier in a world where her mother was both malevolent enough and possessed of sufficient supernatural power to hex her like this, or in a world where random bad luck could so effectively sabotage her only chance to take the LSAT before law school application deadlines.

It had to be bad luck. If Annie's mother had somehow masterminded this, she would have called to gloat, or sent a snide letter, or something. She wouldn't be content to just keep her distance, no, she'd have to rub Annie's nose in it somehow…

"Darling, is that you? Darling!"

Annie jumped, and looked around the coffee shop wildly. For a moment she thought, hoped, that she'd imagined the voice. No such luck.

"You look positively bedraggled," Sadie Parker-Edison said, her voice lush with concern. She sat down in a chair opposite Annie. "What are you doing here? Tell Momma all about it."

END ACT ONE


	30. 4a10: Senior Seminar II

SENIOR SEMINAR ON FIDUCIARY DUTY

ACT TWO

* * *

Seeing her mother there in front of her, face a mask of empathy, Annie actually felt better — she had some external object to focus her frustration on. "I don't need to tell you anything," she said shortly. "You know all about it already."

Sadie looked confused. "I do? I don't think I do."

"You can't —" Annie stopped herself. She hadn't meant to shout; she didn't want to make a scene. "You can't sit there," she said in a more reasonable tone, "and tell me that you had nothing to do with any of this."

"With what? You're not making any sense, Ann." Sadie clucked her tongue with condescending sympathy.

"You planted a stink bomb at DU," Annie spat. "You altered my cell number with the LSAT so I didn't know the test had been moved. And then you had my car towed, just for icing on the cake. Now I've missed my only chance to even take the test."

Sadie cooed sadly at her daughter. "You're upset, I can tell. And understandably; that sounds awful, your plans all going awry like that." She nodded solemnly. "There's a lesson in this. Learn from it and plan better in the future."

Annie stared at her. "What?"

"Perhaps next time you shouldn't delay your efforts — taking the LSAT — until so close to the deadline. In this case, the final of, let's see, there were four different testing dates over the course of the year?" Sadie sounded the epitome of reasonableness. "This is what happens when we delay to the last minute."

Annie felt numb, and wondered, absently, whether her face betrayed her rising bile or whether she was expressionless and blank.

"But the important thing is that you don't blame yourself," Sadie continued blithely. "Yes, you refused to listen to the advice of your mother. Yes, you failed to properly double-check your registration information. And yes, you made the decision to park in front of a fire hydrant. But there were certainly circumstances beyond your control. No one could have foreseen vandalism." She reached over and patted Annie's hand, then withdrew.

"Uh huh," Annie grunted.

"Unless…" Sadie frowned. "You don't think this was one of your so-called friends, was it?"

"What?"

"The various barnacles who have attached themselves to you. I don't mean to be unkind," she said quickly. "People can't help being what they are, and if what they are is too lazy or undisciplined to climb out of the gutter, it's understandable that they might resent you for hauling yourself up."

"Mother, please stop talking," Annie said quietly.

Sadie ignored her. "I'm sure it's not the case that your most recent lover sabotaged you as an expression of his own insecurity and deeply misguided affection." She spoke as though thinking aloud. "Though he does have a track record of dishonesty, doesn't he? And the kind of self-loathing that drives people to drag down those they profess to care about. If I were him I might be terrified of losing you once you begin to succeed in life, and see him as a millstone around your neck. No matter," she assured Annie, "clearly you know him best."

"Mother," Annie said again.

"Of course, he's hardly unique among your circle of acquaintances, is he? It's easy to imagine your friend with the mental problems taking dramatic action, thinking it's what people do in television shows or something…"

"I said stop it!" Annie snapped. She no longer cared about not making a scene. "How dare you, how _dare_ you come in here and, and say these things…"

Sadie tutted again. "Ann, Ann. Annie. Annie-pooh. I'm trying to help you! It breaks my heart you choose to take your frustrations out on me, of all people. Also, this is hardly your personal coffee shop. I only came in for a latte."

"This wasn't my bad planning, and it wasn't Jeff, and it definitely wasn't Abed," Annie snarled. "This was you. You did this to me, and I will _never_ forgive you for it."

Her mother sipped her drink daintily. "Oh, I see. This was all my doing? That makes sense." Coffee finished, Sadie rose, pulling her coat back on. "I do have the power to curse you with spells and hexes, after all. I'm responsible for every bad thing in your life, from paint-bomb vandalism to your self-sabotage. I'm so sorry to have brought you into this fallen world to suffer."

"It's not…" Annie closed her eyes and shuddered. "Go away."

"I do have my coat on, so I suppose leaving is the next logical step," Sadie said. She sighed heavily. "You make it very hard to love you, sometimes. I hope we can speak again under more pleasant circumstances soon." She turned to leave.

Annie voiced a thought as it occurred to her: "I didn't say anything about a paint-bomb!"

Her mother snorted derisively. "You did," she said without turning around. "But I suppose that doesn't matter, you've obviously made up your mind to blame me."

Annie watched her mother leave. She hadn't mentioned paint. She hadn't!

She was pretty sure she hadn't.

* * *

Pierce picked her up, an hour later, once she'd calmed down again, and arranged to be allowed to get her car back. She decided to call Pierce because he didn't know she was supposed to be taking the LSAT today, and she wasn't ready to explain the whole long morning.

On the phone he hadn't asked any questions, but as soon as she climbed into the passenger seat of his car he asked about the LSAT. "I thought today was the big day," he said. "Is it not until next weekend?"

Annie considered it a personal triumph that she resisted bursting into tears all over again. "It was today," she said, her voice cracking only a little. "Didn't work out."

"Oh." Pierce was silent for a few seconds. "Next date's in, what, February?"

Annie scoffed. "Yeah, well, that's too late for the deadlines this year. If I want to go to law school the soonest I could do it would be 2014."

"That can't be right," grumbled Pierce. "School starts in September, right? That's seven months after February. Or… eight?"

She shook her head. "The latest scores they'll accept is the preceding December."

"Well that's just silly. They get the scores in with plenty of time, I'm sure. Maybe not early-decision, but for normal applicants? And this is you we're talking about, any school would be lucky to have you."

"I go to Greendale," Annie reminded him.

"Still!" Pierce scowled as he drove. "I could talk to them."

Annie didn't say anything.

"I could!" he insisted. "The Hawthorne name still carries some weight in this town. And the Hawthorne Foundation's annual donations to the Sturm College of Law."

She tried to think of a polite way to tell Pierce that there was no chance he'd be able to magically convince the admissions department to waive their requirements. "You've already done so much for me…"

"It's a phone call. I can do a phone call. Jeff isn't the only man you know who can schmooze, you know. I've done plenty of wheeling and dealing. I'm handling your mother, aren't I?"

"It's just that… wait, what?"

Pierce glanced over. "Board meeting yesterday. Another one later today. It's not a problem," he assured her.

"Two meetings in two days?"

"Procedural shenanigans," Pierce said dismissively. "She's gotten rid of Carl and Richie. But she won't put one over me so easily, I can tell you that." He tensed up, ready for Annie to explode.

Instead she just sagged in her seat, which was worse. "That seems about right," she said resignedly.

"But like I said, I got Pelton on the board, so there's two of us and one of her," Pierce added cheerily. "And I'll have a chat with somebody over at the law school, too."

She sighed. "You don't need to do that…"

"I know, you think I can't do anything. But let me try," Pierce told her. "You've been dealt a bad enough hand without refusing help. You deserve better."

Annie wondered if that was true. "Thanks, Pierce."

* * *

"Greendale community college board of trustees, meeting the seventh of December, 2012. Mercedes Ann Parker-Edison, presiding. Also present are Pierce Hawthorne and Craig Pelton."

"Hiya!" the dean chirped into the digital recorder.

"You can just speak normally," Sadie assured him.

"Present," said Pierce.

"Excellent," said Sadie. "The first order of business we need to discuss…"

"Where are Carl and Richie?" the dean interrupted.

"Absent," Sadie said shortly. "However we have a quorum of board members, and they've assigned me their full voting rights, so we can conduct business normally."

"I think those assignations are void," Pierce announced. "After all, they aren't notarized. Those could be anybody's signatures."

"They are notarized, actually," Sadie said. She pulled the documents from a briefcase on the floor next to her and fanned them out on the conference room table. "See?"

"Oh." Pierce looked glumly at the assignations. That had been his best idea for countering Sadie's gambit.

"Now, as I was saying, the first order of business." Sadie shuffled the papers in front of her. "It's come to my attention," she began, her tone apologetic, "that some of the coursework at GCC might not be up to standards."

The dean raised his hand. "What's GCC?"

Sadie looked at him a moment before replying. "Greendale Community College."

"Ah." The dean nodded. "That makes sense."

"To head off any bad press or scandal, I move we act preemptively," she continued. "First, we cut the most problematic majors immediately, pending a full review of the curricula. Then we move on to other departments, eventually giving GCC a complete overhaul that turns it into something other than a laughingstock."

"Laughingstock is what we call at Greendale kind of a no-no word," the dean began.

Pierce ignored him. "What majors do you want to cut? What about the students in those programs? We can't just kick them to the curb."

"Of course not," Sadie cooed. "But ask yourself: are the so-called 'Law Studies' majors actually getting any bang for their education buck? I think that allowing them to graduate would simply be a matter of taking their money and running. I mean, there are two semesters of a class on constitutional law. The US Constitution is less than five thousand words long. Two semesters? That's an entire lecture on every sixty-five words."

"I'm sure there's more to it than that," the dean interjected. "Supreme Court cases and Schoolhouse Rock videos and such."

"Perhaps," Sadie said, graciously conceding the point. She winked at Pierce, as though the two of them were sharing a private joke. "But that's just two classes. I have a list here of some of GCC's least educational, most easy-A, blow-off courses. Beginner Pottery. Introductory Accounting. Basic Rocket Science. Independent study on conspiracy theories. And here's one: 'Learning!' With an exclamation point: it just says 'Learning!' "

"Is that Jeff Winger's transcript?" Pierce asked, leaning over to peer at the sheet of paper Sadie was holding.

"What? No, no, no," Sadie said quickly. She winked at him again.

Pierce startled. "Did you just…?"

"Hm?" Sadie gave him an even look, then folded the paper and tucked it into her briefcase. "Now. In light of these new facts, I move that the 'Law Studies' program be suspended, pending a careful review of the degree requirements by an outside auditor."

"An outside auditor? Who?"

Sadie shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it. Off the top of my head, perhaps the Colorado State Bar Association would be a good place to find someone?"

"Oh, no," Pierce said. "I see where this is going. You just want to shut the program down because Annie's —"

"Mister Hawthorne!" Sadie interrupted. "That kind of baseless speculation is hardly appropriate for a board meeting."

"Wouldn't this audit disrupt the learning process of the very students we're trying to help?" asked the dean. "Maybe we should put it off until the summer."

"If the patient is bleeding to death now, I shouldn't think we'd wait until June to treat the wound," Sadie replied. "I and the proxies I hold vote yea on suspending the Law Studies major, pending an audit."

"Well, we both vote nay," said Pierce, "so…"

"Hold on, Pierce," the dean said. "I need to think about this. On the one hand, Ms. Parker-Edison raises some valid points. On the other hand, she's… uh. No offense, ma'am."

Sadie grunted noncommittally.

"So, um… hmm…" The dean made a show of knitting his brow and considering. "I suppose I have to go with Pierce on this one," he said after a long pause.

"Motion passes, three votes to two," Sadie said. "Moving on…"

"Wait, now," Pierce said. He didn't know where he was going with it but he wasn't about to let Sadie run roughshod over him.

"Three votes to two," Sadie repeated, as though she were speaking to a small child.

"Yes, well, I want to take a short recess to meet with my attorney." Pierce cleared his throat.

Sadie tutted. "We're in the middle of the meeting," she said. "And we've already had to put it off once…"

"Okay, well…." Pierce stared at the proxy assignations. How had it come to this? He couldn't shake the sense that Sadie Parker-Edison was playing fast and loose with the rules, but he didn't know exactly what to call her on. "I'm going to take these and review them," he announced.

"Fine." She shrugged. "There are electronic copies on file; you can keep those if you like. Really, Pierce, I don't see why you insist on adopting such a hostile attitude. I think we could work well together."

"In the great Edison-Parker-Edison war of 2012," Pierce said coldly, "I know which Annie I'm on the side of."

Sadie looked wounded. "I only want the best for my daughter, like any mother. You make me out to be some kind of monster, and I try to keep a brave face on, but…" Her voice cracked, her lip quivered, her eyes fluttered without closing.

Pierce shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Sadie's eyes suddenly seemed larger, and the rest of her smaller.

"I know you're her lover's closest and dearest friend, but surely you can see that he's a bad fit for her," she continued.

"Well, that may be true," Pierce admitted.

"They're only going to bring out the worst in one another and make themselves miserable in the process. I'm only doing what any mother would do to spare her child pain."

"Hey now," the dean piped up. "Are we talking about Jeff Winger? Because I really think that…"

Sadie cut him off with a raised finger. "I know what you're going to say: he's _not_ too old for her. And do you know, I agree?"

"Eh?" The dean squinted at her.

"The age gap between those two is no more relevant to the discussion than, say…" Sadie cast about, searching for an appropriate metaphor. "The gap between you and me, Pierce," she said to him, gesturing to the space in between them.

"What?" asked the dean. He glanced nervously at Pierce, then back to Sadie.

"But the fact of the matter is, my daughter is a sweet, innocent girl. And you and I both know what men of the world — men like yourself, men like Jeff Winger — do with sweet, innocent girls," Sadie said, again addressing Pierce alone. "After all, I was a sweet innocent girl once myself, a long time ago." She smiled sadly at him.

"Not that long ago, surely," Pierce said gallantly, before he quite knew what he was saying. "I mean," he added quickly, "that's beside the point."

"Of course, of course." A deflated Sadie looked down at the table between them. "I just… I know my daughter sees you as a sort of ersatz father figure. It's understandable; you and my ex-husband are both the same dashing, leading-man type. Sharp in a suit, know your wine…" She shrugged, as if this whole line of thought were pointless. "I know she and I aren't seeing eye to eye at the moment, but I love her and I'd hoped we could work together, for her and for all the other students at GCC."

The dean scoffed. "Lady, I have to say, you are laying it on pretty thick." He held up his hands in a 'no more' gesture.

"Now, Craig, I think we can at least be civil," Pierce told him. He smiled reassuringly at Sadie Parker-Edison.

END ACT TWO


	31. 4a10: Senior Seminar III

SENIOR SEMINAR ON FIDUCIARY DUTY

ACT THREE

* * *

Saturday afternoon Jeff sat in his apartment, flipping channels and wondering what he used to do on the weekends that was so all-fired pleasant. As recently as two months ago he hadn't been spending every Saturday with Annie as a matter of routine. There was laundry and exercise and cleaning and all the detritus of maintaining his lifestyle, but none of it appealed. He hadn't seen her since the night before, since she'd wanted a good night's sleep, alone, before her exam.

Finally, after a thousand hours of Netflix plus _Fruit Ninja_ , three o'clock arrived.

 **JEFF to ANNIE, 1502:**

 **How'd it go?**

She didn't respond immediately, which wasn't particularly unusual. And Jeff certainly didn't spend the time until she did respond motionless, staring at his phone, waiting for the little dots that meant a message was incoming. That was not the kind of thing Jeff Winger did.

 **ANNIE to JEFF, 1509:**

 **Funny story**

 **I screwed up and missed the test**

 **Not so much funny as stupid**

Jeff started to type in a reply, then gave up and called her instead. "What happened?" he asked as soon as she answered.

"It was my own fault," Annie told him. She sounded distant and strained. "It's dumb. I was dumb."

"I doubt that," Jeff said slowly. He wracked his brain, trying to recall what good boyfriends in media did in these sorts of situations — that was what Annie would be expecting from him, right? He didn't actually have any first-hand experience to draw on. "What did you do that was so stupid?"

"Ugh, like three different things." She sounded exhausted. "It doesn't matter now."

"Sounds pretty unpleasant…"

"Uh huh. I'm just drained. In fact I'm going to lie down. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Uh… yeah, sure.." Jeff hesitated, unsure whether Annie had just cancelled their dinner date. Should he ask her? She didn't sound like she wanted to be pressed about anything… The choice was made for him when Annie hung up.

He sat alone, considering, for several seconds. His first impulse was to call her again, but his second impulse was to leave her be. The last woman he'd seriously dated had dumped him for being too clingy. And Annie was of course a very different person, but still… He decided to split the difference with a text message.

 **JEFF to ANNIE, 1513:**

 **Let me know if there's anything I can do**

 **I'm fuzzy on the details but I remain confident you're an amazing person**

He'd hoped for a least a [blush emoji] or a [heart emoji] or a [thanks emoji] but there was no response.

* * *

When Pierce called him Jeff was so starved for company that he answered immediately despite seeing the caller ID. Shirley was busy most weekends, what with her husband and three children. Britta's text had confirmed that she was with Troy, and Jeff didn't feel comfortable contacting either of Annie's roommates, even indirectly, when she'd shut him out so bluntly.

Probably it was nothing. And he didn't want to be smothering. It just… wasn't like her.

But then, making three separate mistakes that had resulted in her not being able to take the LSAT exam: not like her, either.

"Pierce!" Jeff cried as he answered the phone.

"Jeffrey? It's Pierce," the older man said.

"Hi, Pierce." Jeff tried to keep his tone jovial.

"Are you free of the old ball-and-chain?"

"Sure."

"Not that she's a ball-and-chain. I mean, you're not married. I'm talking about Annie."

"I know."

"Not Britta."

"I know."

"That woman's a pill," Pierce muttered, apparently to himself. "I'm talking about Britta," he said, more loudly.

"What's up, Pierce?" Jeff asked.

"If you're free I have some papers I want to go over with you, as my lawyer."

"I am not your lawyer, Pierce, we do not have an attorney-client relationship, none of our conversations are privileged or confidential, and anything I say or do does not constitute legal advice," Jeff recited quickly.

Pierce scoffed into the phone. "I know, I know."

"If anybody from the bar association ever asks you, remember I said that." Jeff sighed. "You know I'm serious about this."

"I know."

"I'm due to get my license back in less than half a year."

Pierce coughed.

"There's a real solid chance the bar association is going to contact my character references, and since I burned bridges with my old firm, that list includes you." Jeff switched his phone from left hand to right, so he could pour himself a drink. "People who don't know you might get the impression you're a credible reference, so remember. I am not a lawyer and I do not give you legal advice."

"I get it, I get it, Jeffrey. I'm not an idiot," Pierce said. He sounded slightly hurt by the suggestion. "Now, I have copies of some documents relating to the Greendale board… how are you at corporate governance?"

"Not great," Jeff said frankly. Already his appetite for Pierce's nonsense had been sated; an evening alone in his apartment no longer seemed so bad. "You should probably talk to a lawyer about it."

"Well, you know this concerns you directly," Pierce snapped. "I didn't get to be worth fifty million dollars by paying a bunch of suits."

"Is that right? Fifty million? That sounds high. Either way, you got your money by inheriting it."

"That's only partially true. Listen, come over here and help me figure this out. Mercedes is as dangerous as she is beautiful. I'm having lunch with her tomorrow and I want to be armed. Not literally armed. Armed with a strong legal defense. Although… a sidearm might be good to have, just in case we get mugged…"

"Pierce, you're doing that thing where you say things as you think them." Jeff rested his head on his kitchen counter for a moment, and took a breath. It was marginally better than staying cooped up in his apartment. "I'll be over in a few minutes."

Only after he'd hung up did it occur to Jeff to wonder, briefly, about the identity of 'Mercedes.' But he had plenty on his mind already.

* * *

"Okay," Jeff said, some hours later. "Okay." He sighed.

Jeff and Pierce sat together in a beige office full of computer equipment from the late 1980s, which Pierce referred to as his business center. On a desk between them were spread pages and pages of documents: minutes of board meetings, the proxy assignations Pierce had obtained earlier that day, the Greendale Community College charter and board bylaws, a half-dozen other items. Working with Pierce on a project like this was giving him Spanish 101 flashbacks, and not pleasant ones.

The optimal workflow had proved to be Pierce reading documents out loud while Jeff took notes, which had its own problems. Pierce liked to paraphrase, pep up dull sections, and otherwise confuse the highly technical jargon the documents were all written in. The parts of being a lawyer had involved documents and the reading and writing thereof were the parts of being a lawyer Jeff really hated. But once Pierce had explained Sadie's plan to strip Jeff's major of its accreditation, turning his time at Greendale into a massive waste of time, he'd been motivated to find some loophole or error. He'd even texted Annie, asking if she was up for doing some extracurricular work for no credit, but she hadn't responded.

"Okay," Jeff said a third time. He surveyed the sheets of notes he'd taken. "So the good news is we have several ways to challenge this." He ticked them off on his fingers. "One, Sadie wasn't appointed properly to the board and so all the votes and decisions she participates in are void. Two, the rules changes that Carl and Richie made to allow them to assign proxies are also voidable, because they didn't have a proper quorum of board members to approve them. Three, terminating the Law Studies program violates rules in the Greendale student handbook about what's necessary to graduate, and my agreement with Greendale is bound by those rules. There are probably fourth, fifth, and sixth arguments, too."

"Great!" declared Pierce. "So I present this to the board, and she agrees not to screw with any current Greendale students, and everybody wins."

Jeff shook his head. "No, she could just disregard it and continue her one-woman reign of terror. What we do is, we go to a judge and we get an injunction against her. That means filing charges…" He winced, visualizing the stacks and stacks of paperwork involved in such a process. He'd talk to Annie about it tomorrow, he decided. She'd be willing to help.

"Is that the bad news?"

"Part of it," Jeff replied wearily. "The other part is that except for the student handbook thing, basically all of these arguments are also reasons that you and the dean aren't properly on the board, either. It comes down to whether a two-nothing vote, with three empty ballots, counts as a three-fifths majority. The case we'd be making is that it doesn't, and when the other three board members quit last spring the board was irrevocably broken."

Pierce grunted. "I'm not a lawyer, but 'irrevocably broken' sounds bad."

"I'm not a lawyer either and you are not my client," Jeff answered mechanically. He sighed. "Realistically the result of a suit is that after a year or so of writing letters back and forth, the court lets us rewrite the board rules so that you and Craig can be on it, and I doubt we could keep Sadie off, under those circumstances."

"But nothing would happen for a year." Pierce brightened. "So the injunction would stop Mercedes from screwing over all of you so you couldn't graduate! Sounds like a win to me."

"Yeah, well…" Jeff closed his eyes and tried to clear his head. A thought struck him, and he opened his eyes again. "Who exactly is Mercedes?"

"Annie's mother. Mercedes Ann 'Sadie' Parker-Edison." Pierce looked at Jeff like he'd grown a second head. "You've met her. Short, dark hair, looks like a hot version of Annie?"

"Oh, my God," Jeff said. He leaned forward in his beige vintage 1980s office chair. "Are you going on a date with her? Are you insane?"

Pierce snorted. "Jeffrey, please. We're both men of the world… what are you doing?"

Jeff had his phone out. "Calling Annie to get her to get you to call it off!" he snapped. "Annie? You all right?" he asked, speaking into the phone.

"I'm fine," Annie said tightly.

"Listen," he said without further preamble, "Pierce is going on a date with your mother."

"What?" Annie sounded baffled.

"I'm sure you can talk him out of it." Jeff glared at Pierce, and handed him his phone.

Pierce reluctantly put the phone to his ear. "Hello? …Okay." He handed the phone back to Jeff with a shrug.

"Jeff, is there a reason you decided to stand me up tonight?"

Now it was Jeff's turn to be baffled. "What?"

"I've been waiting at Morty's Steak House for half an hour," Annie said. "Was there a reason or did you just figure that I'm just a wet blanket?"

"What?" Jeff's mind raced as he tried to come up with an apt response. She had been stewing for hours, it seemed, and worked up a good head of steam to take out on him.

"I know you sometimes struggle with honesty." Annie's tone was one of frosty condescension. "Maybe I was unreasonable in my expectations, but I thought you'd at least tell me if you didn't feel up to seeing me. I've had a lousy day, and I was really looking forward to this."

Jeff cringed as he heard her voice nearly crack. "I'm so sorry," he said. "But you cancelled on me, remember? You said you were going to lie down and we'd talk tomorrow, so I thought…"

"What? I did not!" she retorted. "I said I'd take a nap and see you tonight!"

Both of them were entirely convinced their memories were completely correct.

"Listen," Jeff said urgently, "I'm sorry you bombed the LSAT but you don't need to take it out on me!"

"For your information, I didn't 'bomb' the LSAT. I was sabotaged by my mother. Probably by my mother." She sighed heavily, into her phone. "Are you sorry? Are you actually sorry?"

"What? Of course!"

"Because I think about it, and you're always saying things like 'oh, don't worry about your coursework Annie,' and 'let's not study Annie,' and 'you should skip classes with me instead of trying to do well.' Well, I like doing well!"

"I know you do! What's your point?"

" 'What's your point?' " Annie mimicked Jeff in a stupid voice. "That's you. Like you don't know what I'm saying. Like you think I'm dumb enough to be fooled."

"I think you're dumb enough to be saying a lot of dumb stuff right now," Jeff retorted.

"Maybe you're dumb enough to make yourself believe a lot of dumb stuff," she countered. "You say you don't believe in doing things? What's that if not 'I better not try because people might realize my best effort isn't that great,' huh? What's that if not 'I feel threatened by people who do well,' or 'I resent Annie for trying to do well,' huh? How far is it from that to 'I don't want her to do well on the LSAT because it reminds me that I had to cheat and lie because I failed' or 'I'd better stop Annie from succeeding or else she might decide she's too good for me!' I'm not too good for you, Jeff, but do you resent me for hauling myself up out of the gutter?"

"Not cool!" stormed Jeff. "I didn't fail the LSAT, I never took it! Because I had to lie to do it, yeah, but I passed the bar without even going to stupid fucking law school! So don't blame me if you aren't as smart or good or perfect as you think you are!"

He regretted the words as soon as he said them. His reward was an aggrieved gasp on the other end of the line, followed by the click of Annie hanging up on him.

Jeff sat there, still, for a few seconds, until Pierce cleared his throat.

"That sounded like it escalated quickly," he said.

"Shut up, Pierce," said Jeff.

* * *

The next day Pierce met Sadie at her favorite restaurant. It wasn't really a date, despite Jeff's concern, Pierce told himself. He knew Sadie and Annie were estranged; given the stress of his relationship with his own father he'd never disregard his friend's feelings about her mother. This was, if it was anything, merely reconnaissance. Sadie was the enemy. Further, she was a dark seductive wicked vixen, and why would Pierce waste his affections on someone like that?

He arrived a few minutes early, but she was already there, in a tasteful dark dress that looked amazing on her but which certainly couldn't be mistaken for the kind of a dress a woman would wear on a date.

There was a moment of confusion when they were taken to their table and he sat. She stood there a moment, looking at him, until he realized his mistake and rose to pull out her chair.

"Oh, thank you so much," she said graciously.

"Not at all, Mercedes," Pierce replied. "You look exquisite, by the way," he added. She was the enemy. It was a recon mission. That didn't mean he could afford to blow his cover, could he?

"Thank you," she said again, almost blushing.

Mimosas were offered almost with the menus. "To Greendale," Pierce offered, toasting.

"To Greendale," Sadie agreed, clinking glasses. "And to new endeavors."


	32. 4a11: Espionage in the Romantic Era I

ESPIONAGE IN THE ROMANTIC ERA

ACT ONE

* * *

Sunday Jeff lay in bed until he couldn't make himself pretend to sleep any longer. Noon found him stewing in his apartment. He'd started six different emails to Annie, deleting each midway through writing them. He'd gone so far as to try just calling her, but her phone was off. He'd checked with Abed and determined that Annie was at their apartment. He could go over there; Abed would let him in. Then he could talk to her, and apologize…

Or maybe that wasn't such a good idea. A couple of months ago hadn't he tried exactly that? And it hadn't gone well. But this was a different situation, Jeff told himself. Annie hadn't demanded he leave her alone, or give her space. She'd turned her phone off, but there were lots of ways to interpret that. Most of them didn't have anything to do with him, even.

Jeff was halfway out the door, keys in hand, when his phone rang. Pierce. Odds were that it wasn't Annie borrowing Pierce's phone, but he couldn't take that chance. Annie might have fled to Pierce. She hadn't known about Pierce's inexplicable date with Sadie, had she? He felt a sense of deja vu as he answered the phone, hoping it was her. "Hello?"

"Jeffrey? It's Pierce," the older man said. "I'm in my car in the parking lot of someplace called Anne-Marie's Room. Decent French toast, fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice. You should try it sometime."

"I've…" Jeff decided there was no point in telling Pierce that he'd been there, recently, with Annie and his mother. "What's the problem, Pierce?"

"Well, I was having brunch with Mercedes, as I told you. I'm on your side, you know. Not doing this because she's hot and plainly interested, but out of a desire to gather intel. In the business we called it sleeping with the enemy. Didn't always do a lot of sleeping, though, if you catch my drift…" Pierce chuckled. "I mean sex."

"Why are you calling? Your car won't start? Sadie attacked you with a knife and you shot her in self-defense and now there's a body to dispose of? What?"

"I thought you should know, I talked to her about you and Annie. She knew about the fight you two had last night."

Jeff grunted.

Pierce went on, "The one on the phone at my place? We were going over the pile of legal documents, and you called Annie, and…?"

"Yes, I remember, Pierce. It's burned into my brain."

"Okay, well, good, we're back on the same page." Pierce cleared his throat. "Mercedes seems to think that you're on the verge of breaking up. Or have broken up? I don't know how she knew. She implied that Annie had called her all tearful and looking for advice, but I think that was her laying out a smokescreen. Annie wouldn't do that. If she were going to turn to a parental figure I'm sure it'd be me."

Jeff grunted again.

"So I don't know about that," Pierce repeated. "Anyway, besides being suspiciously well-informed, she laid out guesses about how it would all end. You pushing Annie and not giving her space. Getting clingy. She feels hemmed in, she bolts. Mercedes made me promise not to talk to you about this, so, obviously I came right to you."

Jeff sighed heavily. "You realize that was probably her plan, right?" Sadie wanted to get into Jeff's head. Sadie must have known that Pierce would immediately run to Jeff with this story. That was entirely in line with what he knew about how she operated.

"What?" Pierce sounded skeptical. "You think she expected me to tell you what she told me? I rather doubt that, Jeffrey. The woman trusts me, I think. She's very… friendly, if you catch my drift. I'm seeing her again tomorrow night."

"How…" Jeff took a breath. "Whose side are you on here, Pierce?"

"Annie's!" Pierce replied readily. "Well, yours and Annie's. We're both men of the world, Jeffrey, you know that."

"Uh huh."

"If the two of you are going to make it work, or not, then you should do it without Mercedes's interference. That's why I'm telling you what she told me."

Jeff cringed. At this point he wanted to just lie down for a while. "Okay. I'll talk to you later, all right? Thanks."

He hung up and, putting thought to deed, went back to bed for a while.

* * *

Britta woke to the sound of ringing. She didn't know how to change the ringtone on her cell, so the sound was the default screaming Anne-Frank-hiding-from-the-Nazis klaxon. She normally had the ringer turned off, but Britta was paranoid that a major national crisis would happen while she was asleep, and people would call her for her reactions, seeking her guidance in troubled times, looking to her to organize a protest and start the mass movement… that sort of thing. So whenever she went to bed she turned her ringer on, and turned it off when she woke up. Unless she forgot, which never happened. It was hardly ever a thing that happened.

"Hello?" she mumbled, still mostly asleep. "Who is it?" Her cell phone had come free with an oil change, so it didn't have all the hot new features like caller ID and she was always wrestling with the spelling autocorrect on text messages.

"Hello? Britta?" Annie. She sounded anxious, but then, she always sounded anxious. "Can I come over?"

"Uh… it's…" Britta looked around for a clock, but the only one in her bedroom was stuck flashing 12:00. "It's super early," she said, which was at best an informed guess.

"I know," said Annie, confirming Britta had been right (the score for today so far was Britta 1, rest of the world 0, oh yeah, suck it, rest of the world). "But I need to… to get somewhere."

Britta felt more than a little touched that Annie had thought of her apartment as a place of refuge. She might have gone to Shirley, or to Pierce, or to Jeff. Jeff was the most obvious choice, which meant there was probably a reason Annie wasn't there… But still! That Annie thought of her gave her a sense of optimism. Britta 2, rest of the world 0. "So come over," she said, her voice still thick with sleep.

"I'm outside your apartment," Annie told her. "I tried knocking but you didn't answer."

"Seriously? Hold on." Without hanging up, Britta pulled on a sweatshirt over the t-shirt and yoga pants that were her pajamas. She threaded around the junk in her bedroom and the junk in her front room, then threw the front door open.

Sure enough, Annie stood on the landing. She looked as rumpled as Britta had ever seen her, and there were dark circles under her eyes. "Hi," she said with a nervous smile, hanging up her phone.

Britta hung up, too. "What's up? I mean, come in!" She gestured to the room behind her, and stepped out of the doorway.

Annie carefully stepped into the living room. Britta winced at Annie's reaction to her apartment, remembering that Annie hadn't been over since last spring. The younger woman's eyes widened slightly at the sight of it all — a dozen old pizza boxes, a pile of unopened mail, dirty dishes on nearly every horizontal surface. Cat hair sticking to all the upholstery and fabric. Britta's bedroom, visible through a door wedged open with laundry, was much the same: fewer pizza boxes and more heaps of dirty clothes and several lurking cats. The litter box in the bathroom was the only part of the apartment Britta kept scrupulously clean, because she'd learned the hard way what happened if she didn't.

"Sorry about the mess," Britta continued. "Just set anything anywhere… I'll make a pot of coffee."

"Thanks for having me," Annie said, as she sat daintily on the edge of the sofa, claiming the cleanest seat in the house. "Coffee would be great… I didn't know where else to go."

"So what's up?" Britta asked from her kitchen. Her kitchen was about three feet from the sofa and six feet from her bedroom, so she didn't need to speak loudly. She rinsed out some mugs while the drip maker brewed.

"Yesterday was… the worst day I've had in a long time. I missed the LSAT, because of my mother I think, and then Jeff and I had a fight, and… I just cannot handle him right now. He'll just look at me and I'll freeze and melt and, ugh, I'm sorry." Annie buried her face in her hands. "I didn't really sleep last night."

"Ho-kay…" Britta bit her lip. "You're totally welcome here, of course," she said. "Or if you want to lie down…? Shower?"

Annie straightened up. "I'm fine, thanks," she said. "It's not such a big deal. I shouldn't be so dramatic."

"Annie," said Britta.

"You know, you might be more comfortable in an apartment that doesn't have quite so many empty pizza boxes," Annie suggested. "We could go through them and you could decide which empty pizza boxes you want to keep, and…?"

"Annie! You're deflecting. That is a thing people do, which I know because I'm basically a therapist," Britta reminded her. She leaned back and rested against the kitchen counter behind her. "So anything you tell me will be therapist-therapee confidential. Not that I'd tell anyone anything… you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do." Annie relaxed a bit in her seat. "You know I want to join the FBI."

Britta nodded.

"It's stupid and a long way off and maybe it'll never happen and I would have to be really lucky, and I know it's kind of stupid, but it's what I want to do," Annie continued.

"It's not stupid," Britta said. "You'd make a good FBI agent. You're all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Self-starter. I like to drink and sleep, but you've got it all…" She waved her hand in Annie's general direction. "You've got it all going on." A thought struck her. "You wouldn't be disqualified for having a friend who smokes weed, would you?"

Annie shook her head absently.

"It's not even illegal any more," Britta pointed out. "Yes on 64!"

"That's fine," Annie assured her. "The FBI policy on that is… it's fine."

"Okay, see? You know that. You're smart, you work hard, you'd be an asset. So enough with the it's-stupid routine. Stupid is agreeing to take a four-week yacht trip with a guy you barely know and his two other girlfriends he didn't tell you about in advance."

"Did you…?"

"We're not talking about me. So. Tell Auntie Britta all about it. No. 'Auntie Britta' sounds too cat lady."

"My Auntie Lelia had three dogs and no cats," Annie offered.

"Sister Britta? No. Sounds like a nun." Britta frowned, then moved on. "Doesn't matter. Tell me."

Annie leaned back on Britta's couch. She almost fell into the low part where the frame was shot, but caught herself on the armrest. She spoke slowly at first, then faster and faster as the tears started to flow. "I was going to take the LSAT yesterday, and then Jeff and I were going to meet, and then we were going to have a nice dinner. Instead I missed the start time for the exam, and my car was towed, and I saw Mother, and I just wanted to take a nap after, so I told Jeff that and he thought I meant I didn't want to go to dinner, so then I got all dressed up and I went to the steak place to meet him and he didn't show and then he called me because Mother seduced Pierce and she's planning on cancelling Greendale or something, and we had a fight and I haven't heard from him since so maybe we broke up I don't even know and I didn't know where else to go so I came to you and you have cat hair on everything —" At this point Annie gave up trying to form words and just collapsed crying on the couch, falling sideways into the big divot where the frame was shot. "And now I have cat hair on me, too!" she sobbed.

Britta quickly shifted from the kitchen to the couch, hugging Annie and then sort of awkwardly petting her. "There, there," she said. "It's okay." _Tissues, tissues, where are there tissues? Bathroom!_ She quickly fetched a roll of toilet paper from under the sink in the bathroom.

Annie took a couple of squares and wiped her eyes with them. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"No problem. Hey, listen, it's going to be okay." Britta patted Annie again. "I mean, that sounds terrible," she amended, in an attempt to display empathy and support.

"Yeah, it's just, I mean one thing after another…" Annie almost broke down again, and strained to control herself, with the help of more toilet paper.

"Mmm-hmm." Not knowing what else to do, Britta didn't stop patting Annie's back.

Annie sniffled a bit more. "This is stupid, I shouldn't be so upset," she complained. "I didn't even want to take the LSAT until October. If I had prepared right I would have taken it last February, so it's my own fault. And I should have been more clear with Jeff, and…"

"Hey, no," Britta told her firmly. "Nothing is your fault! Ever!"

"Well, some things are my fault," Annie countered. "I'm not a child; I'm responsible for my own actions."

"Yeah, well, maybe," Britta admitted. "But any time Jeff makes you cry, it's not your fault. It's his fault."

"I don't think that really holds water either," Annie said thoughtfully. She blew her nose on more toilet paper. "Maybe in this case, but not as a blanket rule." Considering the logical flaws in Britta's statements seemed to be having a calming effect. "What if it isn't his fault? Like, he says something that reminds me of my fourteenth birthday party?"

"What happened at your fourteenth birthday party?"

Annie made a sound midway between a chuckle and a whimper. "It was right around when my parents separated. I didn't have any friends, but my father didn't know that, so he rented Big Bear for an afternoon… the ice-skating rink," she clarified, seeing Britta's confusion. "This whole big arena and it was just me and Mother and him and my Aunt Lelia… and Sandy."

"Sandy?"

"His administrative assistant. Well, secretary. Personal assistant…" Annie shrugged. "His mistress, it turned out."

"Ah," said Britta.

"Yeah, it wasn't a fun day. He was upset that Mother hadn't invited any of my friends, and Mother said I didn't have any friends, and he said that couldn't be true, and they fought about it and then he asked me. Mother was right, I didn't have any friends… this was after I quit Hebrew school and before I really started doing college-application extracurriculars, so I didn't really have anybody. But I didn't want to be on Mother's side, in a fight between them, so I lied and said that I had a bunch of friends and Mother had refused to let me invite them… Wow," Annie said, "I haven't thought about that in years."

"Uh huh," said Britta.

"He left right after that. I used to think that if I'd had friends, they wouldn't have had that fight and he wouldn't have left…"

Britta nodded. "He did already have Sandy, though," she pointed out.

Annie snorted. "Yeah. That's what Mother used to say. I don't even know why she was there. Sandy, I mean. I remember she gave me this really nice blue jacket… that I lost at the rink. Mother probably threw it away," Annie mused, realizing it for the first time.

Britta nodded again, hoping she looked smart. She should have gotten her glasses out, she realized. Too late now. "So it all comes down to your father."

"I don't know if that's true," Annie said cautiously. "I mean, yes, I haven't seen him in almost a decade and yes, I guess he did just abandon me and Mother and yes, in a sense I am always looking for his approval that I'll never be able to get… but, you know, daddy issues are what strippers have. No offense."

Britta bristled slightly. "Okay, first off, why would I be offended by that? Secondly, strippers are not all the desperate seekers of male approval that society likes to paint them as; they're women owning their own sexuality. Not being exploited, but exploiting the male gaze for our own profit! Their own profit, I mean. I never stripped."

Annie shrugged. "Sorry?"

"We were talking about Jeff." Britta wasn't much for distant childhood trauma, even if it drove Annie to seek societal approval through achievement in the same way that it might drive another woman to seek male approval through sexual performance. Not really in Britta's wheelhouse. Jeff Winger, though, him and men like him she knew something about. "If he makes you cry, it's not your own fault for being oversensitive, it's his fault for being a dick. He can't help being a dick," she said with some authority, "but he can try to be better and it's not on you if he doesn't."

"I know that," Annie said distantly. "I feel like I used to know what I wanted, and how the world worked, and how to get what I wanted, and now everything's all messed up. I don't even know if Jeff and I are still together…"

"What? Did he —? What kind of —?" Britta sputtered.

Annie played anxiously with her hair. "We were fighting and using the word 'dumb' a lot and then I hung up on him."

Britta blinked. "Hold on. Did you and Vaughn never fight…?"

"Vaughn?" Annie sounded unsure why Britta was bringing him up. "Vaughn and I broke up a long time ago. We were leaving town, going to Delaware, and then I was like, 'hey, no, thanks though,' and he was like, 'what do you mean?' And then one thing led to another and he left me at the rest stop out on I-70."

Britta's eyes widened as she realized that Annie – for all her experience with academic success, social anxiety, narcotics addiction, rehabilitation and recovery, abusive mother, and the mad crucible that was Greendale – had never actually been in an adult relationship. Britta knew more than Annie about something! And it wasn't even something that Britta herself was very good at — Shirley had made that clear, not long ago. Still, she had once had a fight with a boyfriend that didn't end with them breaking up.

She wondered whether Jeff ever had, either.

"Okay, listen to me, because this is a true thing," Britta told Annie. "You and Jeff have not broken up."

Annie looked uncertain. "Are you sure?"

"I am one hundred percent sure. You have had Jeff wrapped around your little finger for, like, a year at least. It would take concerted action to lever the two of you apart. Like, bears and witches working together. Because… listen, if Jeff were here right now and he said he was sorry and he didn't mean to have your car towed —"

"Jeff didn't have my car —"

Britta waved away the inconsequential detail. "Would you take him back? Or would you say 'Sorry Jeff, you ain't good enough for this,' all sassy-like, and snap your fingers in his face?" Britta punctuated the line by snapping her own fingers in Annie's face.

Annie reared back. "But that's just it! I'm the one who screwed this up! I should be apologizing to him, so of course —"

"See?" Britta beamed. "I swear to you, he feels the same way you do. I bet if you call him right now then the first thing he'll do is apologize, probably with a long and flowery speech that brings in allusions to orbiting moons or gravity or something."

"I turned my phone off," Annie said. "Last night, after. I'm afraid to… what if he's left me thirty angry voicemails?"

"He has not," Britta promised. "You and Jeff have fought before. Like, dozens of times. And at the end of it you two have always ended up closer than you were, staring at one another and smiling like you're the only people in the room and the rest of us don't matter."

"That was different." Annie fidgeted with her hair some more. "That was before."

Britta shook her head. "You're the same people and…" She tried to think of a way to explain why she thought the stakes here are actually way _lower_ because Jeff and Annie were a couple, not higher. Too hard. She gave up. "And you care about each other," she concluded.

Annie seemed to mull this over. "And the last time we had a fight he made it worse, the way he kept pressing me. I hadn't really thought about that. So maybe he's not going to do that."

"Maybe!" agreed Britta.

"So I need to make the first move. I've been making a big deal out of, possibly, nothing. And if I just call Jeff and apologize, it'll be okay."

"It'll be okay even if you call Jeff and refuse to apologize," Britta assured her. "Or if you just turn your phone back on and wait for him to call you. Which he will, because he's basically your love slave."

Annie fished her phone out of her purse and stared at it. "I'm kind of afraid to turn it on."

"You can do it! I'm sure you can."

Annie nodded slowly. "I will… I'm just going to go back to the apartment first. I mean, just to get the home-field advantage." Then she smiled a tiny smile, and looked up at Britta. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"I do feel better," Annie said as she rose.

"Yeah?" Britta beamed. _Therapized!_ Britta 3, rest of the world 0, suck it, rest of the world.

* * *

Jeff took a deep breath. "I screwed up. I can admit that. We both said some things we regret — I mean, I regret what I said. And I've known you for years and I think I can safely say you regret some of what you said." He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry... that probably goes without saying." Jeff winced; this was harder than he'd thought it was going to be. _C'mon, Winger_ , he thought, you can do this. _No glibness, just honesty_. "A lot of things probably go without saying. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't say them. In retrospect yesterday I should have made more of an effort to comfort you and make sure you were getting what you needed, instead of letting my feelings be hurt when you hung up on me. And I shouldn't have gotten so defensive when we did talk, last night."

He sat at the table in Annie's apartment, almost alone. Abed stood nearby, working the video camera he'd mounted on a tripod. Jeff had warned him they were only doing one take, so Abed was silent, focused entirely on the feed.

Jeff paused to take a sip of water. He'd started off pretty weak but he could build on that. "I…" He looked away from the camera. _Abed's not there_ , he told himself. _Just Annie_. "It's not exactly something I'm eager to admit, but you terrify me. This terrifies me," he clarified, glancing at the camera again before looking away. "From the minute you came into my life I… it didn't take long for me to realize that you were someone special. Someone important to me. And over time you've only become more important to me. Which is scary, terrifying, like I said, because caring so much about you — about another person — means that there's this whole new way I can be hurt. There's this whole new arena that I can make huge mistakes in. And just when I think I've mastered it, there turns out to be this whole other level…" He chuckled. "Eventually I'll get the hang of working with you… we do make for a nigh-unbeatable team already, but judging by the fact that I'm doing this, there's obviously room for improvement… so eventually we'll get better at it, and by then there'll be kids to make mistakes with. We'll work together to make the opposite of the mistakes my father made with me and your mother made with you. Whole different realm of mistakes." He glanced at the camera again, before lifting his gaze up to the ceiling.

"It's probably a mistake to admit that – that I look at you and I see a house and a dog and a living room strewn with toys and a couple of kids, driven and brilliant and beautiful like you or lazy wiseasses like me… I think back to the relationships I've been in, such as they were, and if any of those girls had said anything remotely like what I just said, I'd have smiled and nodded and said I was going to make a quick trip to the liquor store and then never come back. The last woman I dated, you remember her, Michelle? Dumped me for getting clingy.

"And I haven't wanted you to dump me, obviously, so… I can't tell you the number of times that I've had the urge to call you, or text you, or grab you and kiss you, and not done it because I know you need a certain amount of space. And because giving in to those urges means admitting, to myself as much as anyone else, just how much I care about you and how devastated I'd be to lose you. Years ago you had a crush on a cool guy who didn't seem to care about anything or anyone, and I don't…" Jeff paused for another sip of water. "I don't want to disappoint you by revealing the extent to which I'm not that guy, the extent to which you make me an emotional wreck. Which I'm sure is more about me than it is you… although if you weren't around I could probably go through life reasonably happy, lying to myself that I had everything I needed, making myself believe it. But you – the way I feel about you forces me to admit that there is more that I want. I love you and I don't want to lose you, now or ever, and… and now I'm sounding like a junior high school girl's romantic ideal. Or not; I don't actually know what junior high school girls want, I just assume it's cartoonish obsessive codependent romance.

"But I guess that's the guy I am. I'm a guy who loves you. I'm a guy who constructed whole elaborate structures of denial and sublimation, because I didn't think it was possible that you and me together could do anything but end badly. I'm a guy who kissed you a couple of months ago because after everything… in that moment, I couldn't bear to not kiss you for one second longer." He swallowed, then continued. "I'm a guy who's looked around at his life and realized he needs to pull it the hell together, because you deserve… You deserve the perfect man. And, much as it pains me to admit, I'm not perfect; all I can be is the best possible version of myself. That's what you do to me, what you've always done to me: you make me want to be better than I am, and you make me feel okay with being me."

Jeff paused, again. He was kind of impressed with his own candor, actually. He rubbed the back of his neck. "And that's nothing new," he said, staring now at a spot on the floor just behind and below the camera. "You've been making me okay with being me, and making me want to be better the whole time I've known you. And you know me pretty well, and… assuming this video confession hasn't driven you to run screaming, which is a risk I'm going to have to take… God, what can I say?

"You're my favorite person. I'm pretty sure, objectively, you're the best person. Definitely the best person in the state. You're cute and you're fun and you have this bottomless well of enthusiasm… and you don't let anyone push you around, you're the sharpest person I know, and did I mention that I'm constantly repressing the urge to just grab you and kiss you, because you're so grabbable and kissable? You're crazy hot. You're Lois Lane.

"And I'm probably overthinking this. I mean, hell, within twenty minutes of us getting together you were explaining that you were open to the idea of kids down the line, just not right away. Which, hey, I can totally support."

He took one last deep breath, for the windup. "I recall telling you on more than one occasion that the only force in the universe capable of withstanding us is each other. When we're shoulder to shoulder we become invincible. So let's work together. Let's thwart all the evil schemes and bring peace and justice to the earth, because seriously, we're a couple of superheroes."

Jeff glanced behind the camera at Abed. "Now, I've asked Abed to record this for me. He's going to put it online and give you the link, and if you ever really want to get me good you can pass it around. I'm sure everybody would have a good laugh at my expense. But this is a message just for your eyes. Abed's seen it, obviously, but I trust him."

END ACT ONE


	33. 4a11: Espionage in the Romantic Era II

ESPIONAGE IN THE ROMANTIC ERA

ACT TWO

* * *

After therapizing Annie, Britta went out with her and got breakfast (or a late lunch, depending on whom you asked). After sending Annie off with a hopeful smile, Britta was feeling pretty darn okay about the world and her place in it. Enough that she dug into her studying with new vigor, and reviewed almost twenty pages of _Evolutionary Psychology: Mind Science_ before the shine wore off. Not for the first time, Britta wished that the rest of the study group were psych majors, so they could study together. As it was they never really met any more. Maybe that would change in the spring semester, if somebody besides Chang was teaching the second half of Historiography. She drummed her fingers on the kitchen counter; sitting on the barstool at the counter was the closest thing to a study space she had.

Fortunately not long after she got bored with studying Troy came over. He sauntered in without his usual cockiness, and collapsed into the couch's divot. "Ugh!" he announced. "Ugh, I say!"

Britta yelped. "Hey!"

Troy lifted his head enough to make eye contact. "What?"

She scowled and folded her arms. "You're just going to come in and say _ugh_ at me?"

He sighed a theatrically long sigh, then did it again for good measure. When he saw she hadn't budged, he hauled himself to his feet and took the necessary two steps to embrace and kiss her.

She started giggling halfway through the kiss. He broke off, a quizzical expression on his face. "What?"

"I was just thinking about how everybody in the AC Repair Annex is at your beck and call, and here you are kissing me on command." She hugged him close to her, almost losing her balance on the barstool. "You don't demand kisses from anyone any of your Gormenghastlies, do you?"

Troy chuckled.

"You don't, do you?" Britta asked, more seriously. She looked him square in the eye, a little afraid of what she might see.

"Of course not, dummy," he said affectionately.

"Okay, so long as that's settled." She released the hug. "What's with the ughs?"

Troy took a step back, so he could sit on the armrest of the couch. "It's the stupid Winter Gala. Every year the AC Repair Annex does this joint Christmas-New-Year's-Kwanzaa-Heat-Pump-Appreciation-Week party, right? It's all paid for with cash, for some reason — they paid for it with salt and barley until Vice-Dean Laybourne modernized. I don't get it either." Troy shrugged. "But the cashbox for the party is supposed to have thousands of dollars in it to pay for a band and streamers and stuff,. It was discovered empty this morning. Everybody's blaming everybody else."

"Oy," said Britta, trying to sound like Jon Stewart.

"Yeah. We wouldn't have found out about it until the ceremonial settling of the debts on New Year's Eve," Troy continued, "except that I was like, no, let's give most of that money to the food bank on 45th street. And then, empty." He threw up his hands. "Jerry says there was money in it the last time he made a deposit, right after the harvest festival, so the box got emptied in the last couple of weeks."

"Unless Jerry's lying," said Britta.

"Jerry wouldn't do that!" Troy looked affronted. "I mean, I don't think he'd do that."

"People do stupid things." Britta spoke from personal experience. "I know. I lived in New York… who else had access to the cashbox? Where was it kept?"

"In the, um…" Troy screwed his eyes shut to remember. "In the Vault of Broken Dreams and Solar Power. Which is locked."

"And Jerry has the only key?"

"Yeah," Troy said, nodding. "Well, I don't know about _only_ key. He has a key. He has a bunch of keys, like fifty keys, actually. I don't know how he keeps track."

"You said everybody was blaming everybody else," Britta said, because this conversation, however expositional, was way more interesting to her than studying Evo Psych. "Who's everybody?"

"Jerry said it was the bursar. I guess the bursar has a key to the vault? The bursar said it had to be the Maiden of Everflowing Currents, but I think that he just doesn't like her. The Maiden of Everflowing Currents says she didn't even know there was a cashbox. None of them have bought new cars or fur coats in the last couple of weeks," he added. "I checked that already… I mean, it's not like I care about the Winter Gala at all, even a little bit, if I had my way we'd stay home and play Mario Kart? But I don't like knowing that somebody's lying to me."

"Maybe nobody is," offered Britta. "Maybe somebody snuck into Jerry's office or the bursar's office, and stole the key, and got into the vault, and then put the key back after. Well, I guess it's obvious that somebody did do that. I mean, somebody you haven't asked."

"I guess." Troy sighed. "I wanted to dress up and do an investigation with Abed, but he's editing some project."

"You could investigate with me," offered Britta. "I've basically mastered all this material anyway," she added, tapping the textbook in front of her.

Troy perked up, intrigued. "That could be cool. Your costumes are always all sexy," he said.

"I'm not going to dress up in a costume for the AC Repair Annex," Britta told him flatly.

"Aw, man! But you dress up all sexy! Sexy dinosaur, sexy squirrel..."

"For you," Britta told him. "Not for Jerry."

* * *

He had intended to drive home after they finished recording the video, but instead Jeff sat in his car, in the dark, thinking. He'd had the radio on, until he realized that he hadn't heard a word of it, and turned it off. The cold brown night would have been better if there were snow, he thought. Almost no snow so far this year. Was that a good omen or a bad one? Annie would certainly have gotten home by now, for dinner. Jeff had deliberately parked where he couldn't see the front door of her building, because that would've made him feel like a crazy stalker.

Now that it was out of his hands, Jeff was free to imagine all the worst possible responses to the video. Annie enraged that he would try to end their fight by apologizing and making what he thought was a nice gesture; she could make a convincing argument that the whole thing was self-aggrandizing. Annie contemptuous of his professions of love, mocking his word choices. A vengeful Annie spreading an edited remix of the video around the school. In the edited remix Jeff would go on at length about his love of junior high school girls, or something. Then, prison…

The buzz of his phone distracted him. Annie, calling.

He answered immediately. "Hello?" His voice was thick in his ears.

"Jeff?" Annie's voice quavered, as though it were an effort of will to speak. "Jeff, I just —" She broke off to sniffle, loudly, into the phone. She sounded miserable, like she'd been crying. "I just saw your video."

"It's okay," Jeff said quickly. He wasn't sure what he was consoling her about, but he hated to hear her so sad. "It's okay."

"Of course it's okay, you doofus!" Annie made a noise into the phone that it took Jeff a minute to process. Laughter. Not snide, mocking laughter like her mother might make, but happy, relieved laughter.

He felt himself relax. Jeff hadn't even noticed how it seemed every muscle in his body had tensed up. "Oh, good."

"Yeah, good," she agreed. Annie laughed and wept. Jeff pictured her, lying down on her bed, phone pressed up against her ear. "I love you too, all right?"

"Absolutely that's all right," Jeff assured her. "Do you want to —"

"Would you mind —" she started, at the same time.

They both broke off.

"Wow, we are killing this, huh?" When Annie spoke Jeff could hear the smile in her voice.

"Yeah. I, uh." He cleared his throat. "I'm actually in my car parked a block from your apartment, if you want to…"

"I'll be right down!" A few scraping noises and thumps came through the phone. "I'm just grabbing some stuff."

She should keep stuff at his place, Jeff thought. It would save time. And he should get her a key, too, because… because he wanted her to have one. "Take your time," he told her. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Britta had kind of expected the bursar of the AC Repair Annex to wear a robe with stars on it and maybe a pointy hat. That was what a bursar was, right? A kind of wizard. She was relieved and also disappointed to discover he was just a guy in chinos and a polo shirt, middle-aged, glasses. Chris Busey, bursar, bore a slightly haunted expression, but Britta could chalk that up to too many carbs. His office, deep within the bowels of the Annex, was likewise disappointing: small and beige with some sickly-looking potted plants.

The bursar asked her a question as she glanced around the room. Photos of a small boy and cats and the bursar with a woman… some kind of superhero logo coffee mug, X-Man or Super somebody. "Will that be all, Consort-Royal?"

Britta startled. "I literally just sat down."

"I have a mountain of extension requests to get through," the bursar replied, testily, "and the network keeps forcing my computer to reboot every half-hour, so…"

Britta held up her hands. "Hey, that sucks. Have you complained to Troy about it?"

The bursar grimaced. "Our IT department is housed in the Land of Wind and Ghosts, because somebody thought that would be a funny _Simpsons_ reference."

"Okay, that sounds great," said Britta. "There's just one more thing." She stared at the bursar until he cleared his throat.

"One more thing?" he prompted.

Britta wondered how Jeff and Annie had fun doing this kind of thing, or Troy and Abed for that matter… probably it involved enjoying spending time with the other person. She wished Troy was there. He was supposed to be there.

Instead he was adjudicating some kind of closed-door meeting between three different plumbers, for reasons that nobody had shared with Britta. Of course, if he'd really wanted to, he could have gotten out of it. He was the Truest Repairman, after all, the sovereign of the entire Air Conditioning Repair Annex. No one could gainsay him; wasn't that the whole point of being an absolute monarch?

Which meant that he'd rather spend the morning lounging on his throne and passing judgment on accused criminals and treaty proposals and bikini contests, or whatever he was actually doing… Britta sighed. Troy had promised no bikini contests, no beauty pageants, nothing in that whole area.

"Consort-Royal?" the bursar asked, again.

"Hmm?" Britta realized she hadn't actually asked the question yet. "Sorry, I was… sorry."

The bursar glared at her and cleared his throat, again.

"According to Troy, Jerry said that you were the most likely person to have stolen from the cashbox. Why do you think Jerry might make that accusation? Also, Troy said you accused a maiden. Why?"

"That is two questions," grumbled the bursar, "but whatever." He took off his glasses and rested his elbows on his desk, rubbing his temples with his fingers. "I'm sorry to be so short-tempered, Consort-Royal. My wife has sleep apnea and neither of us have slept well in weeks."

Britta made a small sympathetic sound.

"I don't know why Jerry fingered me," the bursar said, straightening up and putting his glasses back on. "But probably it's just because he and I have the only keys to the vault, and he didn't do it."

Britta nodded. "And you say you didn't, either?"

The bursar glared at her a moment before answering. "No."

Britta thought about this for a moment. "But you think that some maiden maybe did?"

"I highly doubt it," the bursar declared. "Your boyfriend, the current head boss in charge of this madhouse, asked me to name a suspect. So I did. I swear, the sooner all this jackassery goes the way of the dodo, the better."

"You haven't bought, like, an expensive sleep apnea machine, or anything like that, have you?"

He scoffed. "There's supposed to be a thing getting shipped in from China but it's backordered."

"Backordered so you could like bribe a dude and get it on time?" Britta guessed.

The bursar gave her that long sullen glare again. "No."

"You're saying, I just want to be clear, here, you're saying you didn't steal the money?"

"Wow, you're really bad at this," said the bursar.

* * *

Annie lay on Jeff's bed, eyes closed, listening to his shower. The sound of water hitting tile shifted and cycled as, presumably, the body between the showerhead and the floor moved. She tried to decide how to put into words how she felt, besides 'good' and 'sleepy.'

A big part of it, she realized, was _relief_. Relief to be back to normal. Relief to be back on track. And that was odd, wasn't it? Should she really look at this situation, and say to herself, _Annie, you missed the LSAT and your mother is back in your life and you and your boyfriend of, depending when you started counting, arguably as little as six weeks… you and your boyfriend of six weeks had a fight that lasted almost a whole day, and then he told you he loved you and you said it back to him, and now you're lying on his bed with your clothes all over the floor while he showers, and the only reason you're not in the shower with him is that you've tried that and it's more awkward and less fun than it sounds and even so you're thinking about getting up and climbing in there with him anyway… ah, normalcy!_

But it did feel normal... or at least, it felt right. Some muscle that had been clenched for days was finally relaxed. Maybe 'normal' was the wrong word. She felt relief at being in this situation, rather than anxiety, and that was good. At the same time, though, was it actually good? Annie was used to anxiety: anxiety about the future, anxiety about Jeff, anxiety about Greendale and her friends and the fragile little rut she'd dug for herself. In this moment, she was relaxed and drowsy and filled with a deep sense that everything was going to be okay. And the very novelty of that was something that, if she hadn't been so relaxed, she would have been tense about.

Annie smiled to herself, lying on Jeff's bed. She marveled at the crazy circular logic that swept around her brain, but she did it from a safe remove. Then, on a whim, she rose and stretched and padded over to the bathroom. She slid the shower curtain aside just enough to slip into the tub, behind him.

"Don't mind me," she said. She leaned back against the cold tiled wall, steadying herself with one hand on a built-in soapdish.

Jeff turned, startled, and for a split second she was worried that he would slip and fall — and it occurred to her only in that moment that she might be unwelcome — but then he grinned at her. "Where did you come from? I'm almost finished," he added, not waiting for her answer.

"Don't hurry on my account," Annie told him. "I'm not in any rush."

* * *

Britta sat in the back pew of the Chapel of Regrets (one of seven chapels built into the AC Repair Annex) and regretted. She regretted cajoling Troy into playing investigators, with her subbing for Abed. She regretted pressing on with it anyway when Troy had cancelled. She regretted getting all hepped up on a distraction from Evo Psych. And she regretted failing to win the bursar's trust and getting him to confide in her… So far the score for Monday was Britta 1, rest of the world 5, shut up rest of the world you aren't so great.

"Psst! Consort-Royal!"

Britta swiveled her head around. The whisper was coming from somewhere nearby, but she couldn't find its source.

"Britta! Up here!"

She looked up, at the ventilation ducts overhead. Large and sturdy, they pumped chilled and warmed air throughout the annex. In the darkness on the other side of one of the gratings, she could see the head and shoulders of a man.

"Hi!" the man said. He might have waved; it was hard to tell.

Britta squinted, trying to identify him. "Teddy? Teddy the mead-clown?"

"You remember me!" Teddy seemed genuinely gratified, which was nice. Point for Britta, she decided. Britta 2, rest of the world 5, watch out I'm coming up fast.

"What're you doing in there?" she asked him.

"I go where the mead needs me," Teddy said, as if this were a thing that a normal person might say in answer to a reasonable question. "We act on the line and we brew the potions of the queen."

"Okay, cool," Britta said, because otherwise it was going to be a whole big thing and Teddy did seem happy to see her.

"Do you want some mead?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I could go either way. Also, you're in a duct."

"Heh, yeah. Hold on." Teddy vanished with a loud clang that reverberated through the room. More banging came from inside the ducts, and then somehow Teddy was walking into the chapel through a side door. "I remembered halfway down that I don't actually have any mead right now," he told her. "I'm sorry. I can run and get some; I'm supposed to have it ready at all times."

"That's okay, Teddy," Britta assured him. "Don't worry about it."

He nodded. "So, uh, ma'am," he said after a moment. "Whatcha doing? Praying for a healthy child?"

"No, I… what? No." Britta again considered follow-up questions and decided against them. "I'm investigating the stolen money. You know there was money stolen, right? It might be a secret, I forget."

"It is a secret, but I know about it." Seeing her confusion, he explained. "The honeydew of wisdom flows everywhere and the bees have much to teach. Did you talk to Vice-Dean Jerry?"

"Yeah."

"Did you talk to the bursar?"

"Yeah."

"Did you talk to the weird stranger? I have his address."

"Yeah. Wait, no. No, I didn't… what?" Britta regretted saying so many variations on _wait what?_ in a single conversation, but sometimes you had to do what you had to do. "Who's the weird stranger? What card?"

"The day before yesterday, a guy came in dressed all weird. Kind of like the bursar, with pants and a shirt that were made of two different materials? Instead of a jumpsuit? No offense."

"Okay."

"I mean, you're the Consort-Royal. You can dress however you want. No one will judge you, ma'am."

"Sure. The guy had a… an address, you said?" Britta asked doggedly. Her stubborn refusal to let the conversation be sidetracked impressed her enough that she awarded herself another point. Britta 3, rest of the world 5, neener neener.

Teddy nodded. "Yeah. He met with the bursar, and the close-up magician, and Prof. Schmidt. I don't know about what. Afterwards I was checking the mead carafes in the room, like you do. I saw he'd left his hat, so I went after him. Tracked him all the way downtown to an office building. Left his hat with the receptionist. It was one of those little knit ones, you know, they don't come down to your ears?"

Britta frowned. The bursar hadn't mentioned a private meeting with a mysterious hat-clad (or hatless, now?) man. But then, she hadn't asked. "Okay," she said. "I'm getting bored with this whole investigation thing, so, gimme the address."

* * *

The office building looked like it was big enough to house several Greendale Community Colleges, but according to the directory in the lobby, three-quarters of the floors were empty and available for lease. The seventh and eighth floors, though, were home to Holloway, Rabinowitz, Holloway, and McCormick, LLC. Apparently it was a law firm of some kind. The lobby security guard eyed Britta and Troy, but said nothing.

"Do we have a plan?" Troy asked her as they rode the elevator up.

"Uh, sure. We say that we want to sue someone. Or hire them to sue someone, I guess," said Britta.

"That's cool," said Troy. He grunted ruminatively. "I could pretend to be your lawyer, although I should probably have dressed up more for that…"

"You can't be my lawyer —"

"What, a black twenty-three-year-old in a t-shirt can't be a lawyer?" Troy asked, feigning offense. "Is Barry O is or is not president?"

Britta smiled. "I mean, dumbass, if I already have a lawyer then why would I be hiring another one? Besides, I should be the lawyer. I'm older and my shirt has buttons."

Troy conceded the point. "So, just so we're on the same page, I'm _not_ your lawyer?" he asked, as the elevator doors opened.

"Definitely not," Britta said. She stepped out into another lobby, Troy on her heels. This one had several couches scattered about, also potted plants. A sign, HOLLOWAY RABINOWITZ HOLLOWAY & MCCORMICK, hung on the wall behind a large receptionist's desk.

"Can I help you?" asked the tired-looking receptionist.

"Yes! I'm Bri…nda… Starr," said Britta.

"And I'm her personal physician, Doctor, uh, Batman," supplied Troy.

Britta elbowed him. "I have an appointment with… somebody?"

The receptionist nodded. "Yes?"

"And it's for… right now?" Britta would have cited a specific time, but, she realized, she had no idea what time it was.

"Okay," the receptionist said. Her voice was chipper — a bright-eyed _okay!_ that wouldn't have seemed out of place from a cheerleader. But her facial expression made it clear that the woman was simply counting the minutes until her work day ended. "Do you know who the appointment is with?"

"No I do not," Britta said. "But it's about a lawsuit. That I want to file. Sexual harassment," she told the receptionist as if confiding in her.

"Okay then! Please have a seat," suggested the receptionist. "Someone will be out to deal with you, I mean, meet with you shortly."

"Is the somebody going to be a security guard, do you think?" Troy whispered to Britta as they sat down in the farthest corner of the lobby.

"I don't know, maybe… what do you and Abed do when you're in a situation like this?"

"I don't know," Troy said. "We're never in a situation like this — we always have costumes. I told you we should have stopped at home and gotten costumes."

"Yeah, you're a real infiltration expert, Doctor Batman!" Britta snickered.

Troy's reply died in his throat as the elevator doors opened again. He gasped. "Get down!"

Britta didn't duck down fast enough for him, apparently, because as he slid off of his seat and into the narrow space hidden by the back of the couch, he pulled her down, too.

"What?" hissed Britta, falling silent as a not wholly unfamiliar voice from the direction of the receptionist's desk.

"Hello Marjorie dear." Annie's mother's voice. "Tell Buffy I'm here, would you please? I'll be in Room F; I need to make some calls."

Britta froze, her spine chilled (something she'd always assumed was just a colorful expression).

The receptionist's reply was as swift as it was unctuous. "Of course, Ms. Parker-Edison."

 _All she did was say hello_ , Britta thought. _Why am I terrified?_

She and Troy waited almost a minute before slowly peeking over the couch. Sadie Parker-Edison had apparently moved deeper into the law office, down a hallway. "Okay," Britta whispered. "We need a plan."

"Yeah," whispered Troy. They both looked at one another expectantly.

"Um, how about this. We pull a fire alarm." Britta was making this up as she went along. "Alarm goes off, noise everywhere."

Troy nodded. "With you so far."

"Then we dash down that hall as everyone evacuates. Lawyers and Sadie and people see us. They call security. We get arrested…"

"Yeah, then what?" Troy asked.

Britta winced. "Never mind, bad idea. Okay. New plan. We wait until Sadie leaves…"

Troy groaned. "We don't have that kind of time! I'm hungry!" he said, softly but urgently. "Count to ten and then just walk down the hall," he told her, then rose to his feet. "Excuse me! Marjorie!" he called out, striding angrily towards the receptionist's desk. "I've been waiting to see Holloway for literal minutes now! I'm a busy trauma surgeon and my time has value!"

"I'm sorry, 'Doctor Batman,' " the receptionist replied. She sounded much less solicitous towards Troy than she had towards Sadie. "If you could just take a seat for a moment…"

"Lives are at stake, woman!" thundered Troy.

Britta remembered, abruptly, what he'd told her. Seeing the receptionist's attention wholly consumed by Troy, Britta rose and walked calmly in the direction of the hallway that Sadie must have gone down. The hall turned a corner, around which was a large open area of cubicles, lined with what looked like attorney offices.

Rather than be spotted by a paralegal, Britta quickly ducked into the ladies' room.

She quickly ducked back out, however, when she saw Sadie Parker-Edison examining her hair in the ladies' room mirror. _Probably_ Sadie hadn't spotted her. Still way too conspicuous. She almost ducked into another room, but it was an occupied office — the lawyer within looked up as she started to enter, but only caught a flash of blonde hair.

Third time's the charm. Britta found herself in yet another room off the main area, this one some kind of conference room. She circled the long table, not sure what, if anything, she was looking for. Sneaking into the law office had been a bad plan. Troy was probably getting arrested. Annie's Mom would make her huntsman bring Britta out to the woods and cut out her heart and Britta would plead and the huntsman would bring Annie's Mom a deer heart instead, and that poor deer…

She gasped as, unbelievably, Sadie Parker-Edison came into the room. Instinctively Britta dove under the table. Actually what happened was that was her legs went out from under her; Britta got a glimpse of Sadie engrossed in her phone, and then she was on the well-padded carpet. She crawled under the table, unsure what to do, and watched Sadie sit down, high-heeled pumps barely reaching the floor.

END ACT TWO


	34. 4a11: Espionage in the Romantic Era III

ESPIONAGE IN THE ROMANTIC ERA

ACT THREE

* * *

After the brainstorming died down Annie separated out all the unworkable ideas (her favorite was _have grandchildren, refuse her access_ ) and took a look at what she'd written.

 _LIST OF WAYS TO THWART MY MOTHER_

 _File something with a court? (J. lawyering)_

 _-Invalid proxies_

 _-Voidable board meetings_

 _-Current board makeup is "totally illegitimate cluster-f-word" — J._

 _Find missing board members, entice them into rescinding proxy statements_

 _-Voicemails_

 _-Credit card activity_

 _-AA meetings_

 _-Email?_

 _-Dean?_

 _Pierce: sleeper agent or double agent?_

 _-Pump for info re her plans_

 _-Accept his offer to make call_

"I feel like we're missing avenues of attack," she said. "Like we're playing her game."

"Well, this is Greendale we're talking about," Jeff replied. "Even odds this somehow ends with you and her bowling, or playing paintball, or something."

Annie snickered. "I wish! I'd paint her up good. But you go to war with the army you have. You'll write the letter?" she asked Jeff.

"Of course, of course. The scariest, lawyeriest letter I can," Jeff agreed. "And I'll submit a letter to the court. Corporate lit isn't my strong suit but I'll manage…" He winced. "Wait, no. I can't actually submit a letter to the court; my bar number isn't valid."

Annie waved away the concern. "So just the scary letter for Mother. If it comes to the real court, um, stuff, then we can get someone to actually sign off on things." She waited until she saw his nod. "You do that, and I'll talk to Pierce and the dean."

"I should talk to the dean," mused Jeff. "No offense, but he likes me more than you."

"Uh huh," she scoffed. "Okay. This is… well, it's a start."

"It's more than anybody else is doing," he assured her. "And when have you and I failed at one of these things?"

* * *

Britta's phone was, thankfully, set to silent.

 **TROY to BRITTA, 1543:**

 **Welp security walked me out**

 **I'm at the deli across the street**

 **[[ERROR: Your phone does not support emoji]]**

 **[[ERROR: Your phone does not support emoji]]**

 **[[ERROR: Your phone does not support emoji]]**

Britta started to tap out a reply, but froze, yet again, when another pair of feet entered the conference room. A man, dark pants, black sneakers. He sat heavily in a chair a few seats down from Sadie.

"Ed," Sadie said by way of greeting.

"Good afternoon to you too, Sadie," the man replied. He sounded older, slightly gruff. Britta's first thought was _cop_.

"Mmm-hmm." There was a brief clatter from the table above — Sadie setting down her phone, maybe. "You've been to the Annex."

"Yeah," the man, Ed, said slowly. "They're a tough nut to crack. Almost everybody likes the kid. Ones who don't have mostly left, I guess."

"Mostly, you say."

Ed grunted. "There's a couple of guys who'd like to see the so-called Truest Repairman taken to the Caverns of Endless Ice, if you know what I mean."

Sadie's tone was itself an expanse of endless ice. "I'm sure I don't."

 _Recorder, recorder, can't this thing record?_ Britta turned her phone over in her hands, looking for the functionality she needed. Nothing. There were a bunch of buttons with small indecipherable symbols on them: an icon of an ear, an exclamation point, a fish, a ghost… Definitely she didn't want to set off an alarm or otherwise make noise. That left, as her only real option, text messages.

 **BRITTA to TROY, 1545:**

 **Ed. Everybody likes the kid. Couple guys want see TR in ice cave.**

"But it'll take more than just a couple of paint-bombs and some skunk scent to get them going," he continued. "Have to be more involved than the thing the other day."

"For the 'thing the other day' I had to lie about my identity to the test company and update 'my' contact information." Britta could hear the quotation marks Sadie was probably making with her hands. "It's difficult to imagine being more involved than that."

"More involved for me, I mean. A more involved project."

"I'm already committed to the audit on Thursday. Eight o'clock sharp. You know what I need you to…"

"I know, I know!" Ed sounded crabby. "Breaking into the building is one thing, but.. To depose the Barnes, you'll have to present him with the 'Sacred Chalice of Rixx' and the 'Holy Rings of Bay-dah-zed,' which my sources tell me are guarded by trolls…"

 **BRITTA to TROY, 1546:**

 **Paint bombs skunk thing test update contact info**

 **Depose TR sacred chalice holy rings butt trolls**

 **Audit Thursday 8**

 **Butt not butt**

 **But !**

 **TROY to BRITTA, 1547:**

 **[[ERROR: Your phone does not support emoji]]**

 **Have you had a stroke?**

 **[[ERROR: Your phone does not support emoji]]**

 **BRITTA to TROY, 1548:**

 **Eavesdropping notes**

 **Also what does it say about our society when the black man is escargot out by security when the wit woman travels freely?**

 **White not wit**

 **Esoteric not escorted**

Spelling 'eavesdropping' and making the phone take it took enough of Britta's concentration that she missed a little of Sadie and Ed's conversation. Something about the risk and expense not being worth the reward. Ed mentioned a 'usual rate'; Sadie promised him she'd pay it. Ed would hold off on dungeon delving, then, apparently. He rose to leave, abruptly.

Britta had assumed Sadie would leave then, too, but instead she stayed seated for some reason. Britta sat and waited.

 **TROY to BRITTA, 1553:**

 **[[ERROR: Your phone does not support emoji]]**

 **[[ERROR: Your phone does not support emoji]]**

 **BRITTA to TROY, 1556:**

 **Hiding under a table like a badass**

 **Trapped until she leaves**

"Hello," Sadie said warmly. Britta looked up, afraid that she'd found Britta under the table — but no. Sadie chuckled. "Indeed."

She was on the phone, Britta realized.

"I know, it's terrible. Yes, I… I agree! Pierce, I'm on your side on this, I am." Britta scowled. _Of course_ she was talking to Pierce. _Of course_. "I don't want that any more than you do… Absolutely. Nothing would give me greater pleasure. I'm sure we can find a way to move forward without involving any more lawyers… Well, that too. Mmm."

Britta gagged as Sadie's tone turned sultry.

"I had plans but I can move them. Wonderful… yes, I look forward to it. Oh, there is one other thing," Sadie added, as if she'd just remembered something. "I received a call from the bar association requesting information about the Law Studies program… I told you, we should have been proactive about this."

Sadie snorted derisively, presumably in response to something Pierce said. "I assure you I did not. Frankly I think we're very lucky to have received any advance notice at all. I don't know when, exactly. Sometime next week… No, that name didn't come up but I'm sure his unique status as regards the bar is a catalyst to the audit. Well, they didn't use the word audit, but… oh, I agree! …Yes, just so. You're, hmm, you're preaching to the choir, Pierce. You don't need to convince me of anything…"

She spoke as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, Britta thought. Then it occurred to her what a bizarre idiom that was. Of course butter would melt in a person's mouth; if it didn't, they'd be weirdly cold. Or dead. And Sadie definitely didn't sound like a zombie. Maybe, Britta theorized, it derived from a story about a guy who tricked people into thinking he could carry butter around in his mouth, but he was a con artist. He'd take the butter and flee to the next town, where he'd again try to pull the scam and convince the local rubes that butter wouldn't melt in his mouth…?

Sadie continued to vocally massage Pierce. "Please believe me when I say there's nothing I would like more than to see her happy. To see her again, happy. I just don't want her to make the mistakes I'm prone to, especially with regards to men… so we agree," she said brightly. "The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Trying to conceal anything from the auditor would just put Greendale, and thus my daughter, at risk — which is not acceptable… listen to me, I sound like a mother bear. I just want to protect my cub."

Britta gagged again.

Sadie chuckled, presumably at something Pierce said. "Of course. I'll see you then. I'm… really looking forward to it. Goodbye." There was an odd catch in Sadie's throat at the last line. Britta wondered: could that be sincerity? Was that even possible?

After Sadie rose and left, Britta counted to one hundred before crawling out from under the conference table. Then she walked, boldly and confidently, back down the hall to the lobby, into the elevator, and out of the building. Britta may have gotten a couple of confused looks, but she didn't break stride and no one called out to stop her.

Britta 1, Annie's Mom 0, _suck it Annie's Mom_.

* * *

For dinner Jeff would have gone out, but Annie suggested they make something, and that just meant going out to the grocery store and buying food and then bringing it home to cook it — extra steps added to a process that had plenty of steps already. However extra steps, when they were done with Annie, were something to be cherished, so he agreed readily. They'd made dinner together enough that they both knew Jeff would do the bulk of the work (he knew his kitchen, he was more discriminating than she was in choice of recipe and ingredients, and he had a decade of cooking experience on her) while Annie commented, assisted, and flirted.

 _DEAD SIMPLE PASTA MEAT DISH FOR TWO_

 _1/3 lb sweet Italian pork sausage_

 _1/4 lb whole-wheat fusilli pasta_

 _Fresh basil, more than you think_

 _Maybe an onion if you're feeling it_

 _Two medium-sized bell peppers, two different colors looks better_

 _A third bell pepper if you didn't go with onion_

 _1/2 jar of organic tomato-basil pasta sauce (this is what makes it dead simple)_

 _Directions: Cook ingredients, cutting them up first as appropriate, and mix them together. It's simple. Just don't undercook the onion or overcook the pasta._

"So," Jeff said, eventually, "do you want to talk about yesterday?"

Annie bobbed her head. "What's to talk about? I mean, it was a really awful day and we had a fight. Which I don't want to dwell on. I told you about Mother and the LSAT."

"Rapidly and dismissively, but yeah, you did." He shrugged. "You are of course a magnificently powerful and self-assured woman, and I support and endorse anything and everything you do. Great thing about you being so awesome is that I can trust you not to do anything stupid and crazy."

Jeff stirred the sauce a bit, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She did that self-conscious, pleased head-bob thing she did sometimes.

He smiled. "Wickedly cunning and crazy, of course, that's a whole different story."

Annie let out an aggrieved gasp, but he knew the difference between sincere and ironic aggrievement; it was the latter.

"There's ample history of you making terrible decisions," Jeff continued.

"Well, I am sleeping with you freely and of my own will," she admitted wryly.

"It's true, not every choice you make is bad," he said. "Grabbing an overnight bag on the way downstairs, for instance."

"Hmm?"

"I was thinking that… if you wanted to… I could find some space in a closet or chest of drawers… if you wanted to leave an overnight bag's worth of your things here." Jeff tried to sound as light as he had a few moments ago, but the anxious eagerness he felt crept into his voice regardless. "You know, just to save some trouble."

She was doing that thing where she was extremely pleased and pretending to be only slightly interested. "Oh, yeah?"

"Why not, you know?" Jeff shrugged, and feigned total attention to the sauce he was stirring.

"I could see that saving some trouble." Annie hopped up onto the countertop she'd been leaning against. "Do I get a drawer?"

"Drawer, closet, bathroom counter space… the apartment's your oyster." Jeff gestured around them. He hoped he didn't sound overeager. The idea of Annie invading his apartment and taking it over, piece by piece, was more appealing than he would have thought. But it was way too soon to ask her to move in. Way too soon. Not even two months. Plus three years. It wasn't as if they were strangers… He realized Annie was looking at him with a knowing smile. Surely she wasn't as good at reading his expressions as he was at reading hers. Surely, Jeff told himself. He cleared his throat. "And I want to get you a spare key." He strained to sound casual. "Just, you know, in case."

"Oh, I already have one." Annie sounded nonplussed. "I thought you knew — Abed gave me his."

Jeff let out an annoyed grunt. "Abed had a key? I never gave Abed a key… did I give Abed a key?"

"Well, he got it somewhere. And then he gave it to me. Although he might have made another copy for himself…" She sat silently for a moment. "Do you remember when we were in the historiography classroom?"

He raised an eyebrow and glanced her way. "Of course."

"After," she clarified. "You said something about how we were both anxious because we were worried that this was going to explode on the launch pad."

"I remember," he said, wondering where she was going with this.

"It was an exciting, anxious time, and… I was just thinking that… I still worry about that. I mean, last night I was afraid that we'd broken up."

Before he quite knew what he was doing, Jeff had stepped over to where Annie sat and embraced her. "Hey," he said softly.

"It's okay," she replied. "I get that it's okay."

"I'm not… crap." Jeff winced as he caught a glimpse of Annie's back. He'd moved to embrace her without first setting down his wooden spoon, so he'd gotten a dribble of red sauce across the back of her sweater.

"What…?" Annie tried to follow his sight-line, but couldn't see her own back.

"I got tomato on your cardigan," Jeff said, a little sheepishly.

"What? Jeez!" Annie pulled the garment off and inspected the damage. She groaned. "I really liked this sweater."

"Well, I don't think it's ruined —"

"I think it is." She frowned at the stain. "We can try daubing it, but…"

A few minutes later they'd accomplished as much as they were going to. Paper towels daubed off the sauce but left a stain. Running cold water from the inside of the cardigan out, pushing the stain out of the fabric, helped but didn't eliminate the discoloration.

"I'll get it dry-cleaned," Jeff declared. "They've gotten much worse stains out of my suits."

"Maybe." Annie stared ruefully at the cashmere.

"I'm sorry," he said, backing up a bit as he rubbed the back of his neck. "But, you know, you're not about to dump me over this."

She looked at him, as though considering.

"You're not," he repeated, only slightly less certain.

Annie's stern expression broke into a goofy grin. "You're right, you're right. I just…" She threw up her hands. "I don't know."

"It turns out we can have a fight without breaking up being on the table," Jeff said. "I don't know if that's common — I think we may be relationship geniuses. Invented a whole new thing. We _are_ killing this."

Annie laughed. "That is true and also a good point." Then she seemed to sober slightly. "But I'm… I want to be an adult about this."

"About the sweater?"

"About _this_." She gestured to the narrow space between them. "Us. I don't want to be the anxious junior high school girl you keep worrying about disappointing."

"I didn't call you a junior high school girl…"

"Whatever. You know what I mean."

"Annie," Jeff said, taking both her shoulders in his hands. "It's okay. Frankly I'm terrified. I have a pretty lousy track record with relationships. We're getting close to tying for the longest I've ever had."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"When you're your age, that's cute – never been in a real relationship, what do you expect at twenty-two? But by your mid-30s you're supposed to have mastered… I don't know what. Leaving the toilet seat up."

"Down."

"See?" Jeff cried. "That's how little I know! But that day in the classroom with Vicki…"

"That's how you think of it? The day with Vicki?"

"That day," he continued doggedly, "we agreed that when we were crazy, panicky, upset, enraged, heartbroken… all those things, we'd at least try to talk about it."

Annie nodded.

"And we have. This here, last night, it's proof of concept. Just as we succeed wildly at all other things, so too we succeed wildly at relationship-building. Plus I'd want to talk to you anyway, you know? You're my best friend; if I have a big fight with my girlfriend and I feel like shit, who else am I going to call? Abed? I mean, I did call Abed, but not for advice."

Annie covered her mouth with her hand. "I talked to Britta," she admitted.

Jeff reeled. "Britta!"

"I know! And it helped!"

"Britta?"

"I know!"

They looked at one another for a moment.

"I love you and I'm sorry about your sweater," Jeff said. "And for standing you up last night."

"I love you and it's okay, you're going to get it dry-cleaned," Annie said. "And it's okay, it was an honest mistake and I overreacted. And you're making me dinner now."

Jeff stepped forward, closing the distance between them. The pasta and red sauce ended up kind of overcooked, but they were okay with it.


	35. 4a12: Binding Arbitration I

BINDING ARBITRATION FOR BEGINNERS (PART I OF II)

ACT ONE

* * *

"Settle down, children!" screeched Chang, as he struggled to gain control of the room. It was time for the final Historiography class session of the semester to start. Attendance was total; Chang had announced he would reveal the class's final exam during the session.

Shirley, seated in the front row, had her fingers crossed for a diorama. It would mean less studying than a written exam, and she still had several boxes of diorama crafting supplies in her garage. Given it was Chang, a diorama didn't seem unlikely, either; certainly it was more in keeping with his stated goal of minimizing his own work than, say, essay questions.

Still, knowing Chang, he would come up with something that he could grade quickly but that would take a lot of work on their part. A true-false test, maybe, Shirley speculated. Or multiple-choice. She turned to her right, where Annie was sitting.

"Do you think…?" Shirley's question died as she saw Annie was half-turned away from her, exchanging knowing looks and furtive smiles with her boyfriend. Which, good for them, but by God they'd been at the sickeningly-cute stage of their relationship for what felt like four years. It was far too early in the morning for Shirley to deal with it. Why couldn't they be more like Britta and Troy? Those two, you could hardly tell they were a couple.

"I said settle down!" screamed Chang, and fired a gun into the ceiling.

Silence fell like a blanket on the class.

"That's better!" Chang brandished the gun, which, upon closer inspection, Shirley could see was only a cap pistol. "You people are the worst! Not just… Winger, what the hell are you doing?"

Shirley discreetly turned her head to see. Jeff was frozen roughly halfway out of his seat, his long legs folded up under him as he leaned forward and to one side.

"Nothing," he said tightly.

"You look ridiculous! What… you thought I was going to shoot someone!" Chang sounded offended. "You were going to what, slam-tackle me? Racist!"

Jeff sputtered. "I wasn't going to… how is that racist?!"

"Disgusting," Chang said with a shake of his head. "Also stupid, what, you think you're bulletproof?"

"Firstly," Jeff retorted, "it's a cap gun! There are no bullets! Second, I wasn't going to tackle you, I was just trying to get between you and Annie!"

"Aw!" Annie and Shirley let out the same pleased whimper.

"Stupid move. You should have gone for my kneecaps," Chang declared. He signaled for Jeff to get up and approach him. "C'mon, I'll show you."

"No!"

The teacher snickered. "Oh, you think you can't handle it?"

Shirley craned to see the back of the class, wondering why Pierce hadn't stepped in. This was, she was pretty sure, the exact kind of thing that he'd been sitting in on Chang's classes to prevent. Seeing Pierce's seat was empty, she swore under her breath. It figured that the one day Chang was going to shoot a cap gun and challenge Jeff to wrestle him would be the day Pierce skipped.

Jeff rose to his feet, as if he was going to wrestle Chang, but then he came to his senses and sat back down.

"Ha, didn't think so!" Chang leered at Jeff a moment, then turned his attention back to the class as though nothing had happened. "Now I know I promised that today I would hand out the assignment for your final exam, but before I do that I want everybody to take a moment and think. Ask yourselves, what has this class meant to you? What have you learned?" He suddenly spun around and pointed. "Vicki!"

"What?!" Vicki yelped.

"What have you learned?"

Vicki swallowed nervously, casting her eyes around for help. When no one intervened, she shuddered. "That… that Señor Chang is always right?"

Chang's eyes lit up. "Nice! That's good! Everybody could take a lesson from Vicki here! The first rule in historiography is, always flatter the man with a gun. Repeat!"

"'Always flatter the man with a gun,' " the class repeated.

"Great job!" Chang clapped his hands together. "So that does it for today. Get out of here… why aren't you all pleased?" His eyes narrowed. "Usually when I dismiss class a minute and a half in, you guys are happy about it."

Annie raised her hand.

"Ugh," said Chang. "Bad enough you have to sit in the front row, bad enough you drag Winger up here… you're raising your hand, now? I thought this school had taught you better than that."

Abashed, Annie lowered her hand.

"You said that you were going to tell us about the final today," Shirley offered, in her sweetest voice.

"I did?" Chang seemed surprised. "That doesn't sound like me. I usually put it off to the last minute."

"It's the last week of classes and you said we wouldn't meet tomorrow or Friday," Shirley said, struggling to maintain her sweetest voice. "So this is the last minute."

"Feh." Chang shook his head. "All right, all right. I don't want to grade anything, so the final assignment is an in-class presentation. No, that doesn't work, today's the last… crap. When's the final?"

Annie and Shirley exchanged glances. "Next Wednesday," Annie said. "At noon."

"Noon until…?"

"Three?"

"Okay, three hours to fill… thirty-nine students…" Chang did some mental arithmetic. "Break up into groups of three, and show up for the final ready to give a five minute presentation. We should juuuuust be able to squeeze everybody in."

Annie raised her hand, again, but Jeff pulled it back down before Chang noticed. She squirmed in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with Chang's obvious math errors.

"What should the presentations be —"

"Historiography! Jeez! What have we been talking about for the last twelve weeks?"

"God only knows," muttered Shirley.

* * *

Ten minutes later the study group, sans Pierce, met in their usual room. "You guys as one group, we're the other group, okay?" said Jeff, gesturing to Britta, Abed, and Troy.

"Probably we could just give one presentation and Chang wouldn't notice we repeated," suggested Britta.

"Oh, you just think you can get Annie and me to do all the work," grumbled Shirley.

"That's not true!" protested Britta. "I figured Annie could do everything."

Annie let out an aggrieved gasp.

"Oh, come on," said Britta. "'Everything' in this case is, like, basically nothing. It's abundantly clear that Mandatory Historiography is not a real class, it's just something the dean came up with. We don't need to take this seriously."

"Do we take any of these classes seriously?" Troy wondered aloud. "Sometimes I worry that my time at Greendale might net me a piece of paper that says I'm educated, but no actual education. On the other hand, I am the AC Repair messiah, so I've got my bases pretty well covered."

"I wish you wouldn't say 'messiah,' " said Shirley.

Troy shrugged. "AC Repair savior? AC Repair prophet and god-king?" He snapped his fingers. "AC Repair Super-Jesus!"

Shirley stared at him a moment. "Don't Jehovah's Witnesses have some rule against blasphemy?"

"Hey, I don't tell you how to practice your faith…"

"Regardless," said Britta, trying to drag the conversation back towards the matter at hand, "Historiography is stupid and we'd just be repeating a bunch of work and there's nothing to it."

"What you're saying is mutually exclusive," Abed pointed out. "It can't simultaneously be so little work that it's no burden on Annie to do all of it, and so much work that it's a burden on everyone else to duplicate her effort."

"Well, you're going to have to live with being less than perfectly efficient," said Annie, "because I refuse to do all the work for you guys!"

"And I back you up one hundred percent," Jeff assured her. "Britta, Abed, Troy: frankly, I'm ashamed of you. Annie isn't going to do your project. She'll have her hands full with our group's work."

Annie glared at him in a slightly theatrical manner.

"Okay, fine," Jeff snapped, feigning annoyance. "Shirley and I will also help you."

"Great as it is to hear you speak for me, Jeff," Shirley said, "I actually need to go do work. You know, real work. At Shirley's Sandwiches." She sighed. "Now, if you two really need my assistance for this ridiculous made-up busywork assignment about nothing," she continued, her voice turning mournful, "then I guess I can call my family and tell them they're on their own for dinner tonight, because Mommy needs to…"

"Fine!" "Go!" cried Jeff and Annie.

Shirley smiled and nodded and exited quickly, before anyone could rope her into anything else.

* * *

Normally on Thursdays Jeff Winger slept late. That is, to the extent that his life was regular enough that he could be said to have a normal procedure for Thursdays, he had lately been spending it sleeping late. There were a few exceptions: joyous occasions when he hadn't woken alone in his bed, and unhappy occasions when he'd been obliged to force himself to Greendale at a stupidly early hour for Chang's stupid Historiography class. But normally he slept late.

After Historiography on his schedule was another class he usually skipped: Constitutional Law I, taught by a perpetually-exhausted ex-lawyer several years younger than Jeff. The professor had suffered some kind of nervous breakdown midway through his first year as an associate at a white-shoe New York firm and washed up at Greendale. In Jeff, he'd recognized a kindred spirit, and as such had no problem with Jeff skipping two-thirds of his lectures. They both knew Jeff could breeze his way through the exams to a B-. Jeff could have skipped all the lectures, not just most, and cruised along with a D, but even Jeff Winger had some standards.

However on this particular Thursday Jeff showed up ten minutes early for the lecture, wearing a freshly-pressed suit, a close shave, and a new haircut. Thursday, eight o'clock. Pierce had warned Jeff about a surprise audit sometime before classes ended, arranged by Sadie Edison-Parker. Britta's story as to how she'd overheard Sadie's plan was implausible, but he didn't doubt her sincerity. Thursday at eight, she'd said.

The classroom was mostly empty, and there was a total absence of Sadie Parker-Edison in it. Jeff licked his lips nervously as he looked around — what, exactly, was this ambush going to look like? He'd come dressed for battle, but he had no idea what to expect.

"Jeff Winger!" An Arabic-looking woman in her forties sat in the front row, smiling politely. She waved cheerily at him. Bright eyes, dark skin, familiar, and entirely out of place.

Without context it took Jeff almost a quarter of a second to recognize and remember her. When he did, he could have kicked himself for not noticing her sooner: Lelia Gilman, the chair of his own personal bar association disciplinary sub-subcommittee. The woman with whom, more or less, he'd struck his unholy bargain. Four years in the Phantom Zone, four years keeping his nose clean, four years of Greendale… and then he could have his old life back. They weren't close friends but she always sent him a Christmas card with a picture of her dogs and a jaunty greeting in purple ink.

"Lelia!" he cried, smiling broadly. He strode over to her and shook her hand. "You're looking marvelous, but that comes as no surprise."

"Oh, you," Lelia said in a tone that clearly meant _I enjoy your antics… don't expect me to cheat in your favor just for compliments, but I do enjoy your antics._

He slid into the seat next to her. "So what brings you to this little slice of purgatory? You need to brush up on the basics?"

"Not hardly. I'm sure you've been counting the days until your suspension is lifted. Just to make sure there won't be any difficulties when the day comes, I thought I'd pop in and do a quick con-fab or two. I'd have warned you, but then it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it? Check that you are, in fact, getting a bachelor's degree here, as agreed, and not just bribing someone in the front office to print up fake transcripts for you to mail in."

"Now, Lelia, if someone in the front office printed them, could they really be called fake transcripts?" Jeff asked breezily. "Seems to me if it's notarized by the dean, it must be legit."

"Oh, how we've all missed your cutting legal analysis," she said wryly. "I'm sure you've been breaking coeds' hearts for the last three and a half years."

For a moment Jeff considered telling her about Annie, that he was in love in a way he'd always thought was a lie told by greeting-card companies. However, playing the rake had worked with Lelia up to this point; it had never gone beyond light flirting but light flirting had gotten him this far… There was no reason to change a winning strategy. So instead Jeff winked. "A gentleman never tells."

Lelia chuckled. "Anyway, I have a copy of your schedule here. I need to check with all your instructors, your character references, et cetera. You should feel honored I've blocked out an entire day for this. We can go out for drinks after."

Jeff made a show of checking his watch. "Hm, yeah, it is almost eight in the morning; naturally your thoughts are turning to alcohol."

"You know me so well. Oh, speaking of knowing people!" Lelia grabbed his forearm and gave it a quick squeeze before releasing. "I just found out from the nervous man in the dean's office, my niece goes to school here! Do you know her? I couldn't get any contact information out of her mother, so I'm forced to just look around wildly and hope to spot her. I haven't seen her in years, unfortunately. I remember bad skin and a back brace. Hair all poofed out so she wouldn't look like her mother… I'm not sure I'd even recognize her now. Might have to talk to the registrar and get her course schedule. Don't worry, it won't interfere with the audit. I just…" She went all misty-eyed for a moment. "I've missed her. I say niece, but she's my sorority niece, technically."

"Your sorority niece?" Jeff raised an eyebrow and tried to ignore the sudden sinking feeling. _Purple ink_ , he thought _._ Lelia Gilman was one of only two women he knew who used purple ink.

"My sorority sister's daughter," Lelia said, as if this were obvious. "Little Annie Parker. Or, no, I suppose it'd be Edison still…" Lelia's eyes widened. "You _do_ know her! I can tell from the way your nostrils flared."

"My nostrils are very flaring," Jeff said defensively. Outwardly he looked slightly ruffled, inwardly he was screaming.

"Jeff, what's the matter? Is she your enemy?" Lelia was still smiling. "Let me guess: she reminded some lecturer about a pop quiz they'd forgotten, or something? She's like a daughter to me, but she always was a little teacher's pet… She walked in on you performing experiments with some redheaded Human Anatomy professor?"

"Not exactly," Jeff stammered.

Lelia's smile slowly faded. "You charmed her into letting you copy her notes, didn't you? That sounds like you." She cocked her head, considering. "And then she developed a little crush on you, and you had to let her down, decent man that you are…"

"Uh…" For once, Jeff Winger could think of nothing to say.

Lelia watched him fidget. "But according to arithmetic, she should be a senior like you, so… that would have happened years ago. First or second semester?" She read confirmation in his failure to meet her eyes. "And your reaction was fresher than that. So something else happened…" The smile was completely gone, now, and the eyes had hardened in a way Jeff had never seen on her before. "Oh, Jeff. Tell me you didn't."

END OF ACT ONE


	36. 4a12: Binding Arbitration II

BINDING ARBITRATION FOR BEGINNERS

ACT TWO

* * *

Shirley's Sandwiches was deserted.

After a lot of back and forth, Shirley had decided to hire work-study students through the school, to run the lunch counter while she was in class or at group meetings. She was gone from the counter for only a few hours over the course of the day, but she'd had to hire three different students to work about five hours a week each, to get the coverage she needed. After running through a comical series of inept student assistants, from Garrett, to Garrett wearing a hat and vainly hoping Shirley wouldn't recognize him, she'd finally found three workers she could trust. And yet, here she was, arriving in the cafeteria and finding it entirely empty.

"Lauren?" Shirley called, in her friendliest tone. "Lauren, are you all right?"

She relaxed, then stiffened, as the wrong skinny white girl emerged from the back door to the kitchen area.

"I bought two hundred dollars' worth of coffee, on the condition that Lauren take an extended break," Sadie Parker-Edison said. "Presumptuous of me, yes, but I was hoping you and I could have a little chat in private."

Shirley stared at Annie's mother for a moment. The woman was tiny, immaculately made-up, with perfectly-styled hair and wearing a suit that probably cost as much as Shirley's car. They'd met only briefly, at the ill-fated dinner, but again Shirley was struck by the resemblance between mother and daughter. Not just in the shapes of their faces and their eyes; Sadie had just used the same sweetly condescending tone Shirley had heard coming from Annie on a dozen occasions.

"I know we'll never be friends," Sadie said after a moment had passed without Shirley responding. "But perhaps you can muster the charity to hear me out?"

Shirley's first impulse was to throw the woman out, or maybe throw something at her, for daring to imply she was uncharitable. "Of course," she said tightly.

Smiling slightly, Sadie walked to the nearest booth and sat down. She had a manila folder in her hands. "Please," she said.

Shirley reluctantly sat down across from Sadie. "I don't know what you think you can accomplish."

"I have two things," Sadie said brightly. "An offer, and a request." She opened the folder and spread the documents within across the tabletop between them. "As you may be aware, I'm currently in control of the Greendale Community College board of trustees, which among other things gives me a considerable amount of influence on the day-to-day business operations of the school."

"Mmm-hmm." Shirley stared straight at Sadie, arms folded.

"This includes contracts with outside suppliers," she continued. She leaned forward and smiled as though confiding in Shirley. "You wouldn't believe some of the choices Carl and Richie have made over the years… or you've been at GCC for a while, so maybe you would? The men are idiots, but you know that; you've met them. And Dean Pelton."

"Mmm-hmm." Shirley resisted the urge to glance down at the documents.

"Now, Shirley's Sandwiches currently enjoys a two-year contract and a five-year lease on your current space…" Sadie tapped one of the documents, then another. "Which, well, you were able to negotiate some very nice terms for yourself. Or Pelton gave you a sweetheart deal. Either way, good for you! I have no desire to try to break your lease or force you out."

In the moment Shirley couldn't recall whether the lease was one of the things Jeff had worked on, for her and Pierce, when the lunch counter was opening.

"In fact, I think that a successful small business owned and operated by a GCC alumna, particularly a woman of color like yourself, sends an excellent message to prospective students about the measure of success possible with a GCC diploma. To put it plainly, I want to support Shirley's Sandwiches." Sadie slid another document on top of the lease. "This is a contract hiring Shirley's Sandwiches as the exclusive caterer of all GCC events for the next eight years. I'm under the impression Pelton likes to plan events? Pierce said there were almost a dozen different dances and parties scheduled this past semester." She paused, to let this sink in. "It also extends your current lease and term out to that point, at what I think you'll find to be surprisingly good terms. Improves slightly on your current deal," Sadie added.

Shirley couldn't help glancing at the proffered contract. Then she did a double take, and scanned it more closely. If there wasn't a poison pill in there that she hadn't noticed, then this contract would more than double Shirley's Sandwiches' revenue.

"I know, I know," Sadie said, rolling her eyes. "You're wondering how GCC can afford this. Well, it turns out… and I'm sure this comes as a shock to you…" She winked, as though Shirley were an old friend with whom she'd shared a private joke. "GCC is pretty badly mismanaged. I know! Huge shock." She threw her hands up and chuckled before lowering them. "The savings from shutting down the thermal facsimile simulator lab alone will more than cover it. You know GCC has a whole room full of _pretend_ fax machines? I'd assumed Pierce was joking, but no. Apparently students can't be trusted with real ones. It'd be laughable if they didn't use reams of single-sourced proprietary fake-fax paper, which we've been paying an arm and a leg for. I swear, this school. Bless their hearts…"

"What do you want?" Shirley asked quietly, still reading through the contract.

"Feel free to take that, have your attorney look over it. Or your 'not-actually-an-attorney.' " She made quotation marks with her hands, in case her disdain hadn't been clear.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Whatever you like." Sadie smiled at Shirley a moment, then sobered. "All I want is what's best for my daughter. I'm sure, as a mother, you can understand that. I know my daughter doesn't think much of me, and Lord knows I've made mistakes. But I've repented, and I hold out hope for redemption."

Part of Shirley was acutely aware that Sadie was hitting too many evangelical Christian buzzwords in too rapid a sequence for it to be chance. The rest of her, however, was forced to admit the pitch wasn't entirely ineffective; if there was even the slightest chance that Shirley could bring this woman to Jesus, her evangelical theology insisted it was her responsibility to do so, and save Sadie from Hell. "It's always painful to see a family torn apart," she said cautiously, "but Annie…"

"I'm not asking you to speak to her on my behalf, or anything like that," Sadie assured her. "Even if I could somehow talk you into it, I'm sure that would simply drive her further away. I'd just like one of her friends to know that I'm not… I'm not a monster motivated purely by spite."

 _No, you're a monster motivated purely by a deep-seated need for control_ , thought Shirley. Instead she said "I'm sure Pierce doesn't think of you that way. He's said… things, about you. Nice things."

Sadie gave a wan little smile. "He can be kind of a…" Her voice caught in her throat. "Pierce means well. Mostly he means well." For the first time in the conversation, she seemed slightly flustered. She cleared her throat. "But that's a different case. I'm not expecting you to buy me dinner!" Sadie said, letting out a forced chuckle.

 _Did your facade crack for a second there, or did you decide that you could manipulate me better if you showed a little weakness?_ "Of course," Shirley said sweetly.

"If nothing else, GCC is where my daughter has decided to plant her flag, and so even if she wants nothing to do with me… I want GCC to be the best it can possibly be. You're a parent, you can understand."

Shirley grunted noncommittally.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Sadie asked.

"I wish you wouldn't."

Sadie leaned forward slightly in her seat. "I'm not proud of this… I had a plan. My ex-husband and I separated some time ago. After the divorce I spent a brief period looking for a new partner, various social events and evenings at bars… it didn't lead to anything." She hesitated, as though working up the will to continue. "But it overlapped with the period that my daughter's lover spent picking up nervous divorcees. I never met him," Sadie added quickly, "or if I did we didn't… make any kind of impression on one another. But when I found out about that, I…" She stopped, and began again. "I had someone dig up dirt on him. All of you, really, her friends I mean, but mostly him. As if the falsified degrees and all wasn't enough. When I reviewed his history and saw that he'd been a barfly while I was…" She paused, again, and cleared her throat. "I had the idea of claiming my daughter's lover was in fact my discarded former lover. To prove to her just how unsuitable a partner Jeffrey Tobias Winger is for her." She sighed. "But I couldn't go through with it."

"I could have lived my life without knowing that," murmured Shirley.

"I'm sorry," Sadie said. "Confession is good for the soul, they say… I also had the idea of reintroducing her to Richard Stephenson. I don't know if you remember him. Doctor Rich? "

Shirley nodded slightly.

"He's a good man. A better match for her. I thought simply putting the two of them next to one another might lead to her realizing that on her own, but… I think if she got a whiff of the idea that I approved of him, that would sink his chances completely, regardless of his other qualities."

"Jeff's not a bad man," Shirley said, because she couldn't hold it in any longer.

To her surprise, Sadie just nodded and looked away. "I'm sure he's not. My… her father wasn't a bad man, either. But he was terrible." She rose. "I'm sorry, I've already taken up too much of your time." Without waiting for a response she hurried away.

Shirley was left wondering what, exactly, the sincerity-to-bull-hockey ratio in that conversation had been. She sighed heavily, and began to gather up the papers Sadie had left on the tabletop, unsigned eight-year sweetheart contract included.

* * *

Shirley found Annie just as the latter was getting out of her class on interpretation of actuarial data or some damn hospital-administration thing, Shirley couldn't keep track and didn't try. "Annie!" she cried, falling into step beside the younger woman.

"Hey, Shirley, what's up?"

"I just had a… an interesting, let's say, conversation with your mother," Shirley began.

Annie glanced around nervously. "She's here? Where?"

"I saw her in the cafeteria… I don't know if she was trying to be nice or what, but she…"

"Annie! Annie Edison!"

Annie and Shirley both turned, curious. The voice shouting Annie's name was a woman's, one Shirley didn't recognize, and it came from some distance up the hallway.

Shirley took a step back as the crowd of students parted for a woman (tall, woman of color, nice suit, about a decade older than Shirley) barreling towards them at a full run (impressive, as she was wearing heels). The stranger crashed into Annie's personal space and embraced her, before either Annie or Shirley could react.

"Annie, God, I thought you were in Massachusetts!" The woman's voice was thick with emotion.

Slowly Annie put her arms around her, returning the hug. "Hi, Auntie, um, Lelia," she said timidly.

"What are… God, it's so good to see you! I had no idea you were here!" the woman — Lelia? — told Annie.

"Annie?" Shirley asked, in a tone meant to convey _do you need me to call security?_

Annie understood her tone immediately. "It's okay! This is Lelia Gilman. She's, um, a friend of my mother's."

"Oh." Shirley tried to process this. On the one hand, a friend of Sadie's was no friend of Shirley's. On the other, she was still holding Annie firmly and making no more to release her.

"Let me see you," Lelia grasped Annie firmly at the shoulders and put a little distance between them. "Oh, you look just like Sadie at your age. Or Sadie now, really, I don't know how she does it. Listen to me, I'm babbling. I just…" She trailed off, blinking back tears. "I didn't know where you were. I didn't know you were here, this whole time," she said brokenly. "I missed you. When you ran off I tried to find you, but Sadie wouldn't… I gathered you two had a fight, but I'd hoped you wouldn't think I…" Lelia shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Where have you been? What's happened? Why didn't you call me?"

"I've been here," Annie said, taking a step back. She, too, was misty-eyed. "I've been here at Greendale. It's kind of a long story." She slouched down, folding her arms tightly, and looked down at the floor.

Lelia stepped closer to Annie and hugged her again. "I have a thousand questions, but that can wait. It's okay. I'll buy you lunch. Don't you dare say no." She stroked Annie's hair.

Her head resting on Lelia's shoulder, Annie sniffled and chuckled at the same time. "I wouldn't dare."

 _This was something else Adderall stole from Annie_ , Shirley realized. _Or Adderall and Sadie working together._ She suddenly felt she was intruding. "I should leave you to it…"

"Oh!" Annie seemed suddenly to remember Shirley was there. "Um, Lelia," she said, pulling slightly away from her. "This is my friend Shirley Bennett."

"Really?" Lelia smiled at Shirley. "That makes sense. I was hoping to talk to you, actually, about a mutual friend. Not this one," she added, indicating Annie. "Jeff Winger. He listed you as a character reference."

"He did?" Shirley felt lightheaded.

"Yes. Yes. Let's…" Lelia glanced at Annie, then back to Shirley. "Do you have a few minutes sometime today? I'm actually here about Jeff Winger's suspension. I didn't know you were…" She had turned back to Annie. "This whole time, I… did Sadie know? I'm sorry, we can talk about it in private later."

"I can talk to you whenever," Shirley offered. "Now, or if you two want to go to lunch…"

"Okay, it's…" Lelia checked her watch. "It isn't eleven yet. Let's, uh, let's do this real quick."

"Oh, you're welcome to join us for lunch," Annie told Shirley, surprising both Shirley and Lelia. "I think you and, um, Lelia have a lot in common. Well, maybe not so much a lot in common as…" She trailed off. "You know."

"Sure," Lelia said gamely. She glanced around the thinning crowd in the hallway. "Is there an empty classroom or a study carrel or something we can use?"

* * *

END OF ACT TWO

BINDING ARBITRATION FOR BEGINNERS


	37. 4a12: Binding Arbitration III

BINDING ARBITRATION FOR BEGINNERS

ACT THREE

* * *

Jeff wasn't surprised to find her waiting for him. Sadie Parker-Edison stood in the hall outside his first class after lunch, smiling to herself and playing with her phone. She looked up as Jeff approached, and beckoned him closer. When Jeff instead slowed his pace and stopped, standing twenty feet or so away from her, she shrugged and closed the distance between them herself.

"Hello, Jeffrey," she said cheerily. "You're looking very sharp. Do you often wear a suit to your community college courses?"

"Sometimes," he answered. He tried to guess at what she wanted.

Her eyes were hard. "I'm fine, thank you for asking. And yourself?"

Screw it. "What do you want, Sadie?" Jeff asked her.

"Oh, so many things." She tilted her head. "Walk with me, Jeffrey. I want to offer you something."

"Whatever it is, I don't want it."

Sadie snorted. "At least hear me out. For my daughter's sake — this concerns her, after all."

Jeff stiffened. He didn't want to spend any more time in this woman's presence, but, after all, what more could Sadie Parker-Edison do to him? "Fine."

"I suppose by now you've encountered Lelia Gilman," Sadie said, as though it were occurring to her for the first time. "Not for the first time, I assume."

"Not for the first time, no."

"You and she hashed out the ridiculous terms of your situation with the bar association, I think. She must like you, to be so generous."

"Maybe she's just a generous person."

"Oh, she is. You see, I've known Lelia Gilman a long time." Sadie thrust her phone in Jeff's face and began scrolling through photos. "Here we are at _the Muppet Movie_. We were, oh, I want to say twelve at the time. First time we were allowed to go to a movie without adult supervision, her mother dropped us off… and here we are graduating high school. Class of 1985. Here we are moving into the dorm together… here she is at my wedding, you see, maid of honor, very regrettable hairstyle choices for both of us… and here she is at my daughter's seventh birthday party. Auntie Lelia, that's what she used to call her."

"So I gathered," Jeff said shortly.

"Lelia likes you, I'm sure," Sadie said. "But she loves me. And she loves my daughter."

"Then that makes two of us," Jeff said, "out of you and me and Lelia Gilman."

Sadie made a parody of a wince. "That's an awful thing to say. But then, you're an awful man. At least you're awful in one major respect: you're not suitable for my daughter."

Jeff considered speaking, but instead just waited for her to finish.

"You're lazy and you always take the easy way out. You're instinctively dishonest. You take advantage of people, her most of all. You've pulled her away from her proper path to this ridiculous law school plan. You've encouraged her to drink and debauchery. You've mooched off her studious, generous nature… I blame you for our inability to reconcile over Thanksgiving."

"Why did you even try that? Showing up, out of the blue?" Jeff asked. He'd wondered for weeks.

Sadie shook her head slightly. "No. You don't get to ask questions." She drew herself to her full height (five feet, two inches in heels). "This is the deal. You'll break it off with her. Disappear from her life. You won't return her calls, you won't visit her, you won't speak to her if she tries to visit you. In fact you'll leave town. You can move to Pueblo, or Colorado Springs. Get away from here."

For a moment, Jeff and Sadie just stared at one another. Then Sadie looked away.

"In exchange for making a permanent improvement in Ann's life by leaving it," she said, "you'll be reimbursed for your relocation, and, of course, you will once again be admitted to the Colorado state bar. I'm sure you'll be able to chase all the ambulances you like in Colorado Springs. The people there are very litigious."

"Listen," Jeff said. He felt dizzy.

"You're a liar and a womanizer," she said flatly. "A monster who craves young flesh. In a few years you'll turn forty. You'd be a man in his forties dating a woman in her twenties. Even you must be self-aware enough to recognize that cliche. My daughter has all the potential in the world, and you're standing between her and eventual happiness."

"Listen," Jeff said again. Bad enough someone else was saying all these things, but that the someone else looked and sounded uncannily like Annie...

"Do you disagree?" Sadie raised an eyebrow. "Do you think you are good enough for her? Do you think you know better than me, what my daughter needs?"

"Listen." Jeff's fists were clenched.

"You think you're what she needs?"

"Listen! Christ!" Jeff snapped. "You're not even talking about me, you're talking about Annie's father. Or, I don't know what you're talking about, but, what do you know about me?"

Sadie's left eye was twitching. "I know you're a liar. You lied to your own mother. You lied to the bar association. You lied to the law firm that hired you on the mistaken belief that you were capable of earning a bachelor's degree from a real school. You lied to me within minutes of our first meeting. I know you're a womanizer. You slept with my daughter's friend. You slept with a professor at Greendale. You slept with literally dozens of women between 2005 and 2009. I know you're a user of people. You…"

"Okay! God! Shut up!"

"Mmm-hmm." Sadie let out a low, mordant chuckle.

"I don't… you can't… it's not… dammit!" Jeff slapped a locker, the closest thing at hand that would make a satisfying bang.

She nodded. "Clearly I'm mistaken, given that well-reasoned argument."

"You just…" Jeff rested his head against the locker, suddenly out of breath. "I'm not going to argue with you."

Sadie folded her arms. "Yes, why change a winning strategy?"

"You can tell Lelia whatever you… I'm not going to…" Jeff shuddered. His mouth felt full of cardboard. "You think she'll listen to you?"

Sadie played with her phone for a moment, then held it up for Jeff to see. "You see this picture? This was taken the day my daughter was born. There's me," she said, pointing. "There's little Annie-pooh, and there's Lelia."

"Fine! If you're… fine!" Jeff sputtered. "I'm not going to play your game!"

"Then you'll never practice law in Colorado or anywhere," Sadie said. "Years of your life wasted. A further demonstration of the futility of pursuing her, as she grows discontent with your endless stream of failure. Or else she sticks with you, to spite me, and you can live with the knowledge that you've ruined her life."

Jeff shuddered involuntarily. It was like having a conversation directly with the part of him that hated himself.

* * *

Shirley and Annie sat in the study room, in their usual seats. Annie's hands were neatly folded in her lap and her face was serene, betraying none of the anxiety Shirley knew she felt.

"Ready to get started?" Lelia asked, clicking her pen and making a note on her legal pad. She sat in Pierce's usual seat. Her pen was purple, Shirley noted, and wondered if that was a good omen or a bad one.

"Of course," said Shirley.

Lelia reviewed a sheet of paper in front of her. "So, you are Shirley Bennett, right?"

"That is correct," Shirley said carefully.

"And you've known Jeffrey Winger for about three and half years?"

"To the best of my recollection…" She shook her head, remembering. "Wait, no. We actually met as children. We didn't stay in touch, though. Can I retract my answer?" she asked nervously.

"Shirley, Shirley." Lelia raised her hands in reassurance. "It's okay. This isn't a deposition; you aren't under oath. This is just me asking some questions to get an idea of how Jeff has spent his time here."

"Lelia…" Annie began.

"I've told you, Annie, you can still call me Auntie." She smiled. "I can't believe it's been five years… I hardly recognized you. You look great."

"Thanks, Auntie," Annie said, her tone cautious. "So, um, this whole thing is something Jeff is really… invested in? And you know how Mother can be…"

"Oh, don't I know it." Lelia chuckled. "I've known Sadie longer than you have. Since we were a couple of junior high school girls. And it's true, she was the little bird who suggested I take the time to do this, which is just a funny coincidence that she would… Maybe that was as much about giving you and me a chance to reconnect as anything else… but if she knew you were here…" Lelia frowned. "And I know Jeff Winger. I've known him longer than you have, too… although perhaps not as well." She winked.

"Jeff has really changed since he started at Greendale," Annie said. She started fidgeting with her pen, which Shirley took to be a bad sign. "He's not the man he was, Auntie, and…"

"I know, I know, I know," Lelia cooed. She glanced at Shirley, who was still sitting quietly. "We can talk about _that_ later."

"Or now! I mean..." Annie blinked a few times. "We can talk about whatever in front of Shirley, she's… you're one of my best friends," Annie said, turning to Shirley.

"Of course." Shirley nodded. "We should do this interview thing first, though."

"So, Shirley," Lelia said, turning back to her. "Can you tell me a little about how you and Jeff met?"

"Oh, okay." Shirley cleared her throat, and spoke in the sing-song voice she sometimes used when she was nervous. "I had started at Greendale, and I was taking Spanish 101. Our friend Abed put together a study group. That was me, and Annie, and Jeff, and some other people…"

Lelia checked her notes. "Abed is Abed Nadir, right? Jeff listed him as a reference, too."

"That's right."

"Who else was in the group?"

Shirley swallowed. "Our friends Troy Barnes and Pierce Hawthorne, and Britta Perry."

"And Pierce is the third reference, so that makes sense…" Lelia raised an eyebrow. "Is Britta Perry not a friend?"

"Of course she is!" Annie interjected. "She's one of my best friends!"

"Absolutely, yes," Shirley agreed. "I just, initially, she was only part of the group because… Jeff arranged it with Abed, because he, uh, Jeff wanted to…"

Lelia's eyes narrowed. "Jeff saw a pretty redhead in his Spanish class, lied and said he had a study group to get her to meet with him, and had his friend Abed… whom apparently he's close with since he's a character reference… His friend Abed threw together a fake study group at the last minute?" Her tone was light, but there was something menacing in the way she clicked her purple pen.

"No!" Shirley protested. Despite the lack of blood tie, it was suddenly much easier to see Lelia Gilman as Annie's relative. "Britta's a blonde," she said lamely.

Lelia let out a chuckle that ended in an embarrassing snort. "Okay, his tastes have obviously evolved," she said. "Setting aside Jeff being a player, because it's not technically relevant…"

Shirley noticed Annie shift uncomfortably in her seat.

Lelia doubtless noted it, too. Her tone quickly softened. "Then you all became actual friends, and you've stayed together as a group this whole time?"

"Uh huh." Shirley nodded.

"Would you say you know Jeff well, at this point?" Lelia asked.

"Oh, definitely. I had him and his mother over for Thanksgiving dinner. And we went to the Ren Fair together…"

"The group did," Annie said, jumping in. "We do a bunch of things together like that. It's fun. We have fun. We're friends."

Lelia made a note. "Note to self," she said, "Annie has fun without me." She winked at Annie.

Annie repressed a grin. "Auntie!"

"I mean, you've had, what, five birthday parties without inviting me?" Lelia asked wryly. "I didn't even have your contact information and Sadie was _sooo_ tight-lipped about you…" She shook her head ruefully. "I'm sorry," she told Shirley. "You were saying?"

"Um, just that Jeff and I have been friends for a while now."

Lelia reviewed her notes. "There was an incident of some kind last spring. Jeff was expelled from the school?"

"That was rescinded," Annie said.

"Yes, it was." Lelia nodded. "Shirley, can you tell me anything about that?"

Shirley considered. "It's kind of a complicated story." She swallowed. The study group, the dean, the board — they had all agreed to keep omertà about Chang's reign of terror.

"Okay then. That's fine; I don't need to hear it if that's a problem." Lelia waved away her concerns. "The upshot is, is it a story that Jeff comes out of smelling like a rose, or is there something in there that would give the bar pause?"

"Oh, he didn't do anything wrong. None of us did!" Shirley leaned forward. "The whole group was expelled. For a little while. But Annie's right, it was rescinded."

"Yes, I've read Jeff's transcripts… he sends me a copy every semester, as per our agreement…" Lelia made a note. "Okay," she said brightly. "Is there anything else, anything at all, that you think is relevant at all to the question of whether Jeff should be reinstated to the bar?"

"He's a good man," Shirley said. "He's changed a lot since that first semester. Like, last summer, there was this dispute between me and Pierce, about Shirley's Sandwiches…"

"They co-own a lunch counter in the cafeteria," Annie supplied.

Shirley nodded. "And it was really silly, just a question of whose name went on the contract with the school, but it really hit a nerve with Pierce because of the way he'd been forced out of Hawthorne Wipes and Hawthorne Napkins and Hawthorne Paper Products, and he brought in this lawyer Alan, who it turned out used to work with Jeff…"

"Alan Connor?" Lelia asked sharply. "Nasty boorish little white guy?"

Shirley nodded. "You know him?"

"The legal community in this town is not huge," Lelia explained.

"So we had a mock trial kind of thing, with the dean presiding. Jeff was my attorney and Alan was Pierce's," Shirley continued. "Jeff ended it with this very lovely speech about friendship and how much he'd learned about caring for other people, and how it didn't matter that he was throwing away his chance to go back to his old firm, and… it was nice."

Lelia grunted appreciatively and made another note. "He still makes the speeches, then?"

Shirley giggled. "Oh my yes."

"It's kind of a running joke, really," Annie said.

"I'm sure he's great at mock trials," Lelia said. She smiled. "Debate and model UN and all that, too."

"Oh, yeah, actually," Annie said, grinning despite herself. "We, um, we did some of that stuff together, he and I." There was a faraway look in her eyes for a moment. She blinked it away, but not before Shirley — and presumably Lelia — spotted it.

Lelia repressed a grin of her own. "Okay, great," she said, straightening up in her seat. "Let's say I'm willing to believe that Jeff Winger has become a wonderful human being who deserves to be accepted back into the legal fold. Even that he's as close to being good enough for Annie as any mere mortal man could be… Let's say I'm willing to go along with that… but let's also say I'm on the fence. Is there anything else you want to say, Shirley, to tip me one way or the other?"

Shirley shook her head slowly, then nodded vigorously as she remembered another possible point in Jeff's favor. "Oh, he drew up a contract between Pierce and me, about how we run the lunch counter… which is that I run the lunch counter and Pierce keeps his damn fool mouth shut… and he didn't charge us anything for that."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah, he's done a few things like that for us, just free of charge. The lease with the school for the space, he negotiated that, and he wrote the, I forget what it's called…"

"So he's been acting as your attorney?" Lelia asked, incredulous.

"Oh, no! No, no no," Shirley assured her. "He's been very clear about that. He's not a lawyer; we're not his clients. He doesn't give us legal advice. He always reminds us of that before he does anything."

"Does anything?" Lelia repeated.

Shirley shrugged. "You know, answer questions, settle disputes, write or review documents, clarify things…"

"Legal advice, in other words."

Shirley blinked. "Is that wrong?"

Lelia pursed her lips. "If you have a leaking pipe, and you call me, and I come over with tools, and I tell you I'm not your plumber, but then I fix your leak… am I your plumber?"

"Uh…"

"If you have a cavity, and I'm going to drill it and give you a filling, but right before I inject the novocaine I tell you I'm not a dentist, does that mean that if I screw it up and you lose all feeling in your jaw I'm not at fault and I don't owe you doctor-patient confidentiality?"

Shirley tried to shrug off a sinking feeling. "…I'm guessing not?"

"Definitely not. It's the same with the law." Lelia glanced nervously towards Annie.

"So… that's not how it works?" Shirley asked.

Lelia shook her head. "No, it's not."

"Is this a problem?" Annie asked, visibly worried. "It's just been a couple of things, for friends, and it's not like he was taking money for it…"

"That's true, that's true." Lelia sounded pained. "The rules about practicing law without a license are pretty cut and dried, though. A key part of having your license to practice law suspended is that you _stop practicing law_. It'd be one thing if he were just doing it on his own behalf, that's fine, but…" She trailed off with a rueful shrug. "And Jeff knows that, or he should. At least he should have told me."

"Does this mean…?"

Lelia grimaced; she clearly didn't want to give Annie bad news. "It's… I don't know. It's not great, but… I'll talk to Nadir and Hawthorne and his instructors, and, well, we'll see. We'll see."

END OF ACT THREE

TO BE CONTINUED...


	38. 4a13: Endgames II Queen and Queen I

ENDGAMES II: QUEEN AND QUEEN

ACT ONE

Thanks, as per usual, to both bethanyactually and amrywiol, without whose suggestions this would be much weaker.

* * *

"I don't understand," the dean said for the fourth time.

"All right, I'll explain it again," Shirley said. She sat primly across from him, trying to touch as little as possible. The dean's office always made her uncomfortable; Shirley was willing to withhold condemnation of the dean's various predilections but she preferred not to think about it. Dalmatians everywhere. So many dalmatians… "The situation is complicated. There's a lawyer here from the state bar association to check up on Jeffrey."

"That seems bad," said the dean. "Checking up seems bad. If you're getting tested, there's a chance you'll fail. Knowing you can fail can rattle your confidence, so you're not your best self. That's why we let students take classes Pass/Pass."

"Now," Shirley said, lifting a finger to silence him, "this lawyer is someone Jeff has a good relationship with. Her name is Lelia Gilman. She's the one who agreed to the terms of his suspension in the first place."

"Well, that's good. Between you and me and the wall I always thought the whole 'we're okay with fraud if you just get a bachelor's degree' thing was kind of odd."

"Mmm-hmm." Shirley cleared her throat. The next part was tricky. "She's also a very old friend of Annie's mother."

The dean squinted, mulling it over.

"That's bad," Shirley told him. "Annie's mother is terrible."

"Of course! Of course. I knew that," the dean said quickly. "I met her. I mean, she was just awful to Annie that one time, and she acts like she's into Pierce, which means she's just dishonest by nature…"

"Yes, yes, we're all vice-presidents in the We Hate Sadie Club, except for Ms. Gilman apparently." Shirley paused. "But she's also a very old friend of Annie's. No, 'friend' isn't the right word. Annie calls her Auntie Lelia. It's nice," she added in a sweeter tone.

"They can't be that close." The dean didn't seem reassured. "Annie never talks about her."

"Annie never talks about her family at all," Shirley pointed out. "I think that when Annie had her, hmm, 'breakdown' four years ago Sadie told Lelia that she'd moved to Massachusetts or something. I don't know what she said, exactly. She definitely didn't give Annie's contact information to Lelia. Now Lelia knows that Sadie lied to her and Annie's been here this whole time."

"That's… good?" the dean guessed. "They're reunited. It's nice. And we all hate Annie's mother, so it's good to see her lies exposed." He leaned forward. "Right? That's good, right?"

Shirley nodded dismissively. "Yes, yes. But there's another problem."

"Oh, what now?" whined the dean. "Can't things just be good or bad? What's with all these other problems?"

"Jeff has been violating some fool rule or other, helping out me and Pierce. It's a technicality but you know how lawyers are about technicalities."

"Augh!" The dean dropped his head into his hands, groaning. "This is just too much to remember, good thing, bad thing, good thing, bad thing! Why can't you just tell me what's left over after everything else cancels out?"

Shirley scowled, disgusted. "Because I'm trying to talk to you like you're an adult? Lord knows I should know better after this many semesters at this school. Listen, little man," she said, leaning forward. "Jeff Winger is in trouble and needs help. Are you just going to sit there and let him dangle?"

The dean slowly straightened up. "No?" His voice quavered.

"Then let's get to work!" Shirley stood up. "I need you to get everyone together who'll be willing to speak on Jeff's behalf, students and faculty alike. Professor Duncan. His friend Neil…" She ticked the names off on her fingers. "There must be someone else, I don't know. That's why I came to you."

"Vicki?" hazarded the dean.

"No!" Shirley barked, causing the dean to flinch. "Not Vicki! Dear Lord, I said _speak on Jeff's behalf —_ what is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" whimpered the dean. "She was in here earlier —"

"Who, Vicki?"

"No! The lawyer! She was in here and she asked a lot of very very probing questions about degree requirements and course syllabuseseses," he stammered, "and accreditation and the student handbook and — and I panicked and I don't even remember what I said!" The dean's tone was histrionic.

Shirley shuddered. On top of everything else, if Greendale Community College's academic standards weren't up to Lelia Gilman's expectations, Jeff might be sunk regardless of his character. "All right," she said. "Don't worry about that."

The dean nodded hopefully. "It's going to be okay?"

"I don't know. But don't worry about it because you can only focus on one thing at a time, and I need to you gather up everybody. Focus on that. Get them to the cafeteria at five, all right?"

"Right."

"Everybody, cafeteria, five. Say it."

The dean pursed his lips. "Everybody, cafeteria, five," he repeated. "I'm not a child, you know."

Shirley was already halfway out the door. "I know," she said over her shoulder. Kids sometimes had some sense.

The dean harrumphed. Then, suddenly remembering, he dashed to the exit and called down the hallway after her, "Wait, which everybody? Was that a yes or a no on Vicki?"

* * *

 ** _1 May 1988_**

A tidy dorm room, lit by Christmas lights. Music wafting in through an open window. Lelia Gilman, a tall half-Iranian English major of about twenty lounged on her bed, reading a paperback. She looked up as the door opened and another twentyish girl, this one tiny and pale, sauntered in. The second girl, Mercedes Parker, closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, grinning.

"You look pleased about something," Lelia said. She sat up, shifting into a cross-legged position.

Mercedes nodded. "Yeah. You remember Richard Edison?"

Lelia raised an eyebrow. "Mister Edison from the alumni dinner? Spent the whole time hitting on me?"

Mercedes winced. "Yeah, well, he asked me out."

"He did?" Lelia seemed oddly disappointed. "I mean, he's an old geezer and not my type, but…"

"Oh, can't you just be happy for me for once?" Mercedes asked petulantly. "I know, you and he… but you're obviously not going to do anything with him, so…" She gestured towards herself. "Also he isn't old, he's… I don't know, mid-thirties."

"Okay." Lelia chuckled. "You can have him, Sadie dear. But if you get married I want your firstborn child."

Mercedes giggled. "Deal."

* * *

"…And then the helicopters blow up the mud hut, with C.G.B. Spender still inside," Abed said. "Mulder and Scully go one way and Doggett and Reyes another."

He sat in the study room alone with Lelia Gilman, who had given up taking notes. "And that's the whole plot of _the X-Files_?" she asked wearily.

Abed nodded. "There was another movie but it doesn't really tie in. I hope that answers your question."

"I don't remember what I asked." Lelia rubbed her eyes and the bridge of her nose.

"Can I ask you a question, or is that not allowed?" he asked.

"Shoot."

"Are you Annie's fairy godmother?"

Lelia smiled, then sobered as she saw Abed seemed to be serious. "Annie's Jewish," she said. "I would have been her _kvaterin_ , if she'd been a boy."

He nodded solemnly.

"Also I'm whatever the opposite of a fairy is," she added. "I don't have a magic wand."

"Yeah, I didn't think you had actual magic powers. I can separate fantasy and reality. But if Annie's a Disney Princess, and her mother is an Evil Queen, then you…"

"I don't think it's fair to call Sadie evil," Lelia protested. "I mean, she's gotten kind of squirrelly ever since the divorce, but…" She sighed. "I don't know why she lied to me about Annie."

"It seems pretty obvious she resented your apparent intimacy," Abed said. "That's consistent with everything I know about her."

Lelia smiled tightly. She wasn't especially interested in dissecting her relationship with Sadie with one of Annie's friends. "Can we get back to the matter at hand?"

"Of course."

"Is there anything else you haven't said… about Jeff Winger, to be clear… that you think might have some bearing on the proceedings?"

Abed thought for a moment. "He once attacked this table with a fire axe."

She clucked her tongue. "He hurt anybody?"

"No. Not then. About a month later he killed Pierce's dad."

Lelia waited for Abed to clarify. When he didn't, she cleared her throat. "Care to unpack that?"

"Last year Pierce faked a heart attack. He went to the hospital. His father was there and Jeff blamed him for Pierce's problems. Not without reason. He made a Winger Speech… you know what I mean by that?"

"Oh, yes." Lelia nodded.

"Jeff made a Winger Speech at Pierce's father and Pierce's father had an actual heart attack and died." Abed stared at Lelia for a moment. "Pierce's father was really old."

She grunted noncommittally. "Well, if he was really old…"

"Oh, he also ruined a kid's bar mitzvah in a drug-fueled frenzy."

"Drug-fueled?"

"He had a bad reaction to an anti-anxiety medication."

"Ah." Lelia nodded in understanding. "Well, that can happen."

Abed's eyes lit up and he leaned forward in his seat. "You know about the Adderall? I didn't know if you knew."

"Adderall?" Lelia scooted backwards a bit in her chair. "Sorry, what?"

Abed froze. "Nothing."

Lelia Gilman pursed her lips and stared at Abed for a moment, thinking. Then she moved on. "What can you tell me about this, um, bar mitzvah ruination event?"

"Not a whole lot to tell. I was in debt to a celebrity impersonator service, the group agreed to work as celebrity impersonators to clear my debt, meanwhile Jeff had just started on a new medication. Pretty simple really." Abed shrugged.

"Who —" Lelia began.

"Ryan Seacrest."

She suppressed a smile. "And who —"

"Judy Garland as Dorothy Gale."

"That sounds about right." Lelia tapped her pen against the table thoughtfully. "Okay, Abed. I don't need a blow-by-blow of every wacky misadventure you've engaged in."

"That would take hours," agreed Abed.

"You're a character reference. Right now I'm under the impression that you think of Jeff as a pretty okay guy. Not perfect by any means, but someone you're proud to call a friend. That sound about right?"

"Sure," said Abed. "He has his flaws, mostly stemming from deep-seated insecurity, but who doesn't in this crazy world?" He tilted his head, considering. "Maybe Shirley. Her flaws seem to come from a different place than insecurity."

Lelia cleared her throat. "New question. This one is… not about Jeff Winger. Or if it is, it's only incidentally… you have a very intense stare, you know that?"

"I've been told that," Abed said. "Some women find me adorable. Others worry I'm a serial killer. I'm not a serial killer. Was that the question?"

She winced in sympathetic embarrassment. He didn't seem to notice. "No," she said.

"Cool."

Lelia pressed on. "You live with Annie."

"Yes."

"You know her well."

"Yes."

"We used to be close."

"I figured, based on what you and she said."

"I haven't seen her in about five years."

"None of these are questions," Abed observed.

Lelia nodded testily. "How is she? Is she… is she okay?" She shifted in her seat. "I'm not asking you to betray a trust. I don't want to invade her privacy, but I've worried about her. I can't help it. Sadie never told me anything, and she used to tell me everything, but then one day Annie was this forbidden topic… that doesn't matter now. She can tell me herself, or not, what happened and why I haven't heard from her in so long." She took a deep breath. "But there are things she might not want to tell me, so I'm asking you: is she okay? Is Jeff at all good for her? Is she on some self-destructive path right now, in your opinion?"

Abed said nothing.

She fidgeted a moment. "That's a very unnerving stare and I do not find it adorable. Normally I would be too polite to say anything but today has been extremely stressful for me, for obvious reasons."

"Annie is well," Abed said. "She's kind of a control freak but she also keeps the bathroom really clean and her fixation on Jeff would probably seem a lot more unhealthy if he wasn't just as fixated on her. She's majoring in Hospital Administration because she picked it out when she was fourteen, but she's decided she wants to work for the FBI and she thinks the best route to that is law school. She's driven and she holds everybody she knows to high standards, herself most of all. She isn't very observant but she really resents it when other people get annoyed when someone says 'happy holidays' instead of 'merry Christmas.' She makes blueberry pancakes sometimes and it doesn't come up often but she loves to do crossword puzzles in purple ink. You're crying. Did I say something wrong?"

"No, yes, no!" Lelia retrieved a tissue from her briefcase and wiped her face. "No, well. Excuse me. Can you point me to the ladies' room?"

Abed pointed. He watched her leave the room, then sat quietly, waiting for her to return. "Today has been an emotional roller-coaster," he said to no one in particular. "Probably it's finals coming up."

* * *

 ** _3 June 1990_**

A large round table, in a pavilion at a country club. White bunting and a live band. Law student Lelia Gilman, matriculated and intoxicated, slumped in her seat. She wore a purple bridesmaid's dress.

"Do you remember the night he asked me out?" The bride, shining in her wedding dress, slid into the seat next to Lelia. She clutched a flute of nonalcoholic champagne.

Lelia perked up. "Hmm?"

"May first, two years ago," Mercedes Edison reminded her. "You said that if we got married you wanted our firstborn."

"Oh." Lelia smiled at the memory. "That's okay, you can keep him. Or her. My wedding gift to you."

"You're so generous!" beamed Mercedes. "If it doesn't work out, you know, I'm going to blame you."

Lelia nodded. "That seems fair."

* * *

Annie was hurrying out of her last class of the day to meet Lelia Gilman in the study room when her phone rang. "Pierce?"

"Annie. It's Pierce. Where are you?"

She glanced around. "Greendale?"

"Ah, good, good." He sounded exhausted and harried. "Are you in any kind of trouble?"

It wasn't a completely nonsensical question, but Annie wasn't sure how to answer it. "Um…"

Pierce didn't wait for a response. "Listen, I can't talk long because your mother thinks I'm on a flight to Reno and when she hears this she'll know the truth, so I've got to act fast!"

"What?" Annie ducked around a corner and pressed up against a row of lockers. She looked around frantically but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. "What do you mean, hears this?"

"I didn't want you to find out this way but I'm out of time. Tomorrow Mercedes is sending some hit man to murder Jeffrey. Code-name 'the Gill Man.' I've got to get him to a safe house before he's shot. Obviously I can't tell you where it is directly, since as you know Mercedes tapped your phone…"

"What?"

"So I'm going to tell you in code. You have a pen? Get ready to take this down. One, three, sixteen —"

"Pierce!" Annie barked.

"Well, hurry up and find a pen!"

"What do you mean, she tapped my phone? Pierce, this is important!"

"She has a guy, this private investigator. He tapped your phone, I don't know how. Her laptop has a bunch of recordings of your calls on it."

"What? What laptop?"

"Your mother's. I said. I'm looking at it right now. It's actually making a recording of this call. It's pretty impressive, what they can do with computers now."

"Where are you?"

"Well, obviously, I don't want to say," Pierce said, "because of the whole phone-tapping thing. I can tell you in code —"

"Pierce!"

"Heh, you know, you sound just like Mercedes." He chuckled. "You're right, though, I did say I was with the laptop, so I can just come right out and say I'm in your room. Your room at your mother's house, I mean, not your room in your apartment. I found your old picture of Troy, by the way — better not let Jeffrey see that!"

Annie whimpered into the phone, visualizing Pierce standing in her childhood bedroom. Her resolve hardened. "All right. This is what you're going to do. Take the laptop. Leave the house. Drive to campus. Meet me in the study room."

"Annie, it is a nice laptop, but I don't think this is the way you want to get a new laptop. You would feel guilty about it later," Pierce told her. "If you want a new laptop, well, Christmas is just around the corner, and maybe Santa Pierce will give one to you…?"

"It's not about the laptop, Pierce, it's about the invasion of my privacy!"

"Oh." Pierce sounded disappointed. "Yeah, I can see how that would upset you… hey, I almost forgot! The hit man. We need to get Jeffrey to a secure undisclosed location. I have a cabin out near Sugarloaf — oh, now it's no longer undisclosed. Well, we'll think of something."

"She's not a hit man, she's my aunt…"

"Of course I can probably talk her out of it," Pierce mused. "The woman is smitten with me, you know."

"There's no hit man," Annie said. "Jeff is totally safe. Probably."

* * *

END ACT ONE


	39. 4a13: Endgames II Queen and Queen II

ENDGAMES II: QUEEN AND QUEEN

ACT TWO

* * *

 **12 November 1995**

A hospital room, clean and impersonal. One bed lay empty, but in the other slept Lelia Gilman, attorney at law. Battered and beaten, she was swathed in bandages. Sadie Edison sat with a magazine in her lap, in a wooden chair next to the bed. She spoke into a large cellular phone.

"…I'm sorry honey, I don't know when I'll be home. Late tonight, after you're asleep. Daddy will read to you tonight, all right?"

She listened, damp-eyed, for a moment. Then she chuckled, joylessly.

"No, she can't —" Her voice cracked, but the little girl on the other end of the call didn't notice. "She can't come over, not tonight… because she's busy. She loves you but she's a very busy lady, you know… Soon, I promise. I love you… bye."

Sadie stretched out in the chair, letting her head loll backwards. "Thanks," she told the phone. "I told her you'd read to her… oh come on, it's just… well, take it up with her. Make sure she brushes her teeth… I don't know. You know as much as I do…"

Whatever the other end of the phone told her, Sadie didn't seem to care for it. As she listened she made a face and mouthed _bluh bluh bluh_ to no one.

"They can miss you for one night," she implored the phone. "I'm not leaving here until she's… no. No! Just be a father for one night!" She slammed her thumb on the large plastic button labeled _END CALL_ , and the phone beeped once.

Sadie threw the phone into her purse. "If I get divorced over this I'm blaming you," she told the woman in the bed.

Lelia's eyes fluttered open. "That seems fair." She winced. "Did something hit us?"

Sadie's hands found one of Lelia's, and she gave it a squeeze. "Yep. Drunk driver. Car's a total loss."

"That's rad." Lelia closed her eyes again. Just when Sadie decided she must have fallen back asleep she spoke again. "Did I dream it or did you carry me out of flaming wreckage like a superhero?"

"You're much too big for me to carry." Sadie smiled softly."I dragged you. And the wreckage wasn't flaming. I was worried the car would explode like in the movies, but it didn't."

"Well," Lelia said as she started to fall back asleep, "it's the thought that counts."

* * *

Jeff Winger didn't often drink during the day, but he didn't often have a woman who looked uncannily like his girlfriend rattle off a bunch of true things about him, and then say that because of those things he should break up with her. Nor did he often have a woman who looked uncannily like his girlfriend tell him that unless he broke up with her, he'd be disbarred.

Aside from a brief flirtation with professional video games champion in high school, Jeff had never wanted to be anything but a lawyer. The lawyer was the rich man in the nice suit who got into the nice car and drove away and left all the problems behind. To hear him tell the story, he'd become a lawyer by random chance, just wandering into a bar exam and passing it and one thing led to another, golly gee whiz.

The truth was that when Jeff had failed out of college he'd hatched a plan. He spent close to six years studying on his own for the exam. He forged the necessary paperwork to let him take the exam without a law school degree, because it was less risky than forging a law school degree. The day he got the letter telling him he'd passed, telling him he could be a lawyer… it had been one of the best of his life, rivaled only by a few more recent days. And those days had an unfair advantage, in the form of Annie Edison.

But that was the thing in a nutshell: Annie Edison was the best thing to ever happen to him. She didn't really fit in the rest of his story; she wasn't perfect, but she was too good for him. He was selfish to keep her, and he was good at being selfish, but…

"Leave her or you can't be a lawyer" wasn't going to make him leave her. "Leave her because she is better off without you" was closer, but it wasn't enough either. Not by itself.

But both arguments together… He shuddered, remembering. Sadie Parker-Edison, so confident in the correctness of her contempt for him. Giving voice to every doubt he'd ever had. Telling him he was broken, and that his love would break Annie, who had been through so much already.

 _If you don't like that part, and I don't blame you, you could focus on the other thing. You never believed love was a real experience, and you were wrong about that. You're probably also wrong in thinking you'll never love again._

He had, after all, always wanted to be a lawyer. He'd been a good lawyer. He'd enjoyed it… he'd enjoyed large parts of it. People respected him. He'd wanted it for far longer than he'd wanted a life with Annie. Who's to say he couldn't be swayed by that argument? Who's to say Sadie Parker-Edison had needed to bring in her uncharitable description of him, to convince him to make the deal?

The two prongs of the argument worked against one another, after all. If Jeff was selfish enough to dump Annie for a return to his career and chosen life-path, then he couldn't simultaneously be selfless enough to give Annie up for her own good.

 _The one is cover for the other. If it makes you feel better to do so, you can pretend you are a good person. If pretending you are doing bad makes you more comfortable, then pretend you do it because you are a bad person._

But on inspection Jeff found he couldn't pretend, not even in private, not even for a moment, that he would pick the bar over the girl. He tried to imagine making the deal with Sadie. A tearful Annie — set that aside. Colorado Springs. Wearing a suit and driving a nice car. Drinks after work. Congratulations. Grateful clients. Another girl: a redhead, say. Someone he could trick into thinking he loved them the way he loved her… Bile rose in his throat. Three years ago that future had been the thing keeping him going, and now it made him sick to think of it.

Better to imagine Annie's life without him. Graduation in the spring, followed by law school, followed by Quantico. Annie in a suit, with a flashlight and a gun… Jeff realized his mental picture of an FBI agent was informed largely by _the X-Files_. Annie proudly accepting a Best FBI Agent certificate from a grateful President. Annie sparkling at DC cocktail parties. Annie impressing some senator or congressman, marrying him in a beautiful fairytale ceremony miles beyond anything Jeff could ever afford. Annie raising a pack of kids without giving up her career. Annie encouraging her husband's ambitions. Annie making history as the first person to be both Attorney General and First Lady of the United States. Annie herself running eight years later.

And compare that to her life with him. Annie married to Jeff, disbarred disgrace, as he woefully took a terrible job and hated every minute of it. Annie putting a brave face on. Annie putting herself through law school. Annie giving up her career to raise their kids because Jeff was a terrible parent. Annie growing unhappy: smiling less and drinking more. Annie widowed at a relatively early age when Jeff's body gives out on him. Annie selling her hair for beer money.

 _Okay, not very realistic_. _More likely she points out that she wants a career and you hate yours, and you juggle priorities._

She was, after all, brilliant and driven and many other positive adjectives. And he would do whatever he could to avoid hurting her. And he loved her, and she loved him, and if there was one thing he was sure of it was that she didn't want him or Sadie or anyone making decisions on her behalf…

His phone was in his hand and he was calling her before he'd quite thought it through. Sadie hadn't demanded he keep secret her offer- _cum_ -threat. But would it hurt Annie, to know what her own mother had tried to do? Was she better off not knowing? He hung up quickly, while he thought about it. Annie was already convinced, despite a lack of evidence, that Sadie was somehow responsible for the LSAT fiasco…

Jeff jumped when the phone rang in his hand. "Hello?"

"Jeff! I was just talking to Pierce. He was at my mother's house, for some reason I choose to believe involved fixing a leaky faucet for her, or watering her plants, or something else non-sexual. Apparently she's been listening in on all my calls somehow, I don't know how you would even…"

Jeff pictured her — grinning, breathless, with that gleam in her eye she always got mid-caper. "I was just talking to her," he said slowly.

"Oh yeah?" In Jeff's mind's eye, the gleam grew sharper. "What'd she say? Something horrible and dishonest?"

He smiled. "Pretty much. The woman doing the audit is a friend of hers —"

"It's Lelia Gilman! My Aunt Lelia! I've told her about you, I'm sure —"

"Okay, you know that, great…"

"I just assumed that she knew all about," and here Annie's tone grew softer, but more conspiratorial than melancholy, "the pills and rehab and Mother disowning me." Then, more brightly, "But she didn't know! Mother lied to her! Isn't that great?"

Jeff struggled to follow the leap of logic. "Yes?" he guessed.

"I know!" He could practically hear her beaming with pride. "What did Mother say to you? Is that why you called?"

"Huh?" For a moment Jeff had forgotten entirely about his existential dilemma. "Yeah. Yes. She threatened to disbar me. Or make Lelia disbar me."

On the other end of the phone Annie snorted. "Well, that's not going to happen," she said confidently.

"She said some other things, too… about you and me…" Somehow, talking to Annie, they no longer felt quite as plausible or worrisome.

"She's wrong. You and me are a couple of superheroes, remember?"

Jeff scoffed. "You don't know what she said," he pointed out, but he was smiling.

"I am pretty sure I can guess exactly what she said, Jeff, and trust me, she's wrong. The man she's talking about isn't you. If you were him then you wouldn't have spent a year or more running from the idea of being with me, you'd have snatched me up and screwed me and cast me aside for a younger model."

"You're already… do you think I'm a pedophile?"

"No, you goof, I'm talking about… never mind. I love you. It's going to be fine."

"I love you, too," Jeff agreed. "And yeah, it's going to be fine."

* * *

 **22 December 1998**

A cozy living room, professionally decorated, clean except for dog hair collecting in the corners. A perfunctory-looking Christmas tree, three feet tall and wrapped with ornamental netting, on a table with a half-dozen gifts. Lelia Gilman, scarred but still alive, lounging on the sofa with half an airedale terrier in her lap. Sadie Edison, sitting on the carpet, leaning against the sofa, with the other half of the airedale terrier licking her face. A mostly-empty bottle of wine, with two mostly-empty glasses, had been set on the coffee table.

"Yes, that's very nice, I love you too," Sadie told the dog. "You can stop licking me now…"

"Tiger!" Lelia clucked her tongue loudly. "Go to bed!"

The airedale scrambled up and obediently trotted to a dog bed in one corner.

"Good boy!" Lelia cooed.

"And you say you aren't fit to be a parent," Sadie said. "If I could get Annie to do that…"

"The problem is Annie doesn't like sausages enough. You'd need a really high-value treat."

"I like sausages!" A young girl in pajamas bounced into the room.

"Annie!" Sadie clucked her tongue in imitation of Lelia. "Go back to your bed!"

The only effect, unfortunately, was that Tiger the airedale decided Sadie must have been calling for him. He bounded back across the room and began butting his head against Sadie's, which she knew was a sign of affection but which was less fun for her than Tiger probably assumed it was.

Meanwhile Annie was still standing there. "I can't go back to my bed," she said reasonably. "My bed is at my house. This is Auntie's house."

Sadie died a little, inside. She could hardly blame Annie for wanting to be home — she missed home, too. But Richard needed to believe her threats were genuine, if they were going to have any effect, and if the threats didn't have any effect, then Annie would grow up in a broken home and in the long term this was better. This _was_ better, Sadie reminded herself. "Well, then, use your head and interpret my words. Work with me, honey," Sadie begged her daughter.

"C'mon Tiger, go to bed, who wants some sausage for going to bed?" Lelia whispered at the dog, who cheerfully ignored her.

Annie bounced in place. "When can I sleep in my bed?"

Sadie smiled stiffly and pretended a dog wasn't assaulting her. "In a few days when we finish visiting Lelia and go home."

"Please, stay through Christmas," Lelia urged as she stood and began hauling Tiger bodily away from Sadie. "I've told Santa that you're going to be here, so if you go home then your gifts will go to the wrong house."

"Santa isn't real," Annie declared.

Lelia looked surprised. "He isn't? Well then, stay through your birthday. It's just a week away. And then we can party like it's 1999!"

* * *

Shirley checked the time. Two past five. The impromptu school assembly in the cafeteria had, at least, bolstered Shirley's Sandwiches's afternoon business. Whether anything more or better would come of it was as yet unknown. She'd done all she could; the rest was up to God and other people.

Shirley checked the time, again. Two and a half minutes past five. God's timing was perfect, but 'other people' were late.

Lelia Gilman swept in first. She made a beeline to Shirley when she saw her. "Shirley, hi. I was supposed to meet Jeff Winger here, have you seen him?"

"Not for a while," Shirley replied. "Can I get you some coffee or a sandwich?"

"A soy latte would be good, thanks…" Lelia looked around and seemed to notice the crowd for the first time. "Why are there so many people in here? Pep rally?"

"Oh, no. They're here for Jeff." Shirley beamed. "These are all additional character witnesses…" She spotted Vicki sitting pensively in a booth next to Neil. "And well-wishers."

"Huh. That's nice…"

"It is!" Shirley nodded eagerly. On the stage opposite them, the dean was arguing with Garrett and Todd. He caught Shirley's eye from across the room, and signaled to her. _Two minutes to full-press honey-roast_.

Lelia didn't notice. "Although not really necessary…" She looked pained. "I think I have enough information to reach a conclusion."

"But…" Shirley paused to offer Lelia a cup of her best flavored coffee. "I'm sorry, the espresso machine isn't working and I don't have any soy milk. This is hazelnut."

"That's fine." Lelia smiled weakly. "Thanks."

Shirley tried to sound upbeat. "If you're going to find against Jeff, don't you owe it to him to hear all the testimony first?"

"Really, I just need enough to decide…" Lelia trailed off as a commotion at the cafeteria entrance on the far side of the room distracted her. "Okay, what is happening?" she asked Shirley.

"No idea." Shirley peered across the room. A troop of a dozen or so men and women in blue jumpsuits marched into the cafeteria as though in a parade drill. A drummer and a piper cut through the noise. Two more plumbers held up banners: the American flag and the Greendale Community College flag. The rest bore on their shoulders a large apparatus that appeared to have been constructed from PVC pipe. A litter, Shirley realized, seating two.

Troy Barnes, on a PVC throne, rode into the cafeteria to spontaneous applause. Seated at his right hand was was Abed Nadir, his Very Special Friend.

"Oh, that's Abed," Lelia squinted to make him out across the large room. "Are you sure this isn't a pep rally?" she asked Shirley.

"Less sure than I was," Shirley admitted.

Troy held up his hand until the cheering died down. "Friends, Greendaliens, fellow Human Beings… we come before you with a tale of treachery and deceit!" he shouted. Murmurs rippled through the room. Lelia and Shirley exchanged pensive looks and shrugs. Troy let the crowd react for a few beats, then raised his hand again, and they fell silent. "Habeas the corpus!"

Behind him, four more jumpsuit-clad workers led a bound man into the room. His wrists were tied behind his back and a length of rope between his ankles forced him to hobble.

"This isn't a ritual-sacrifice situation, is it?" Lelia asked Shirley nervously.

"I am the Truest Repairman, the Repairer of Men," intoned Troy. His voice sounded amplified, despite the lack of a microphone or speakers. "This one has invaded our annex under false pretenses, a crime punishable by —"

"Death!" "Death!" "Death!" chanted the people in jumpsuits.

"No!" Troy cried in a more normal tone of voice. "By kicking him out and threatening to call the cops on him! Come on, people!"

The workers all looked suitably abashed.

"Anyway," Troy said to the crowd, attempting to return to the dignity and verve of a few moments prior, "he says he's just a hired gun and he's willing to finger his employer in exchange for a plea deal. I've explained to him that we aren't the police and have no authority to arrest, try, or imprison him, but he's been pretty insistent. Can someone get him a mike?"

As the technicians scrambled to mike the prisoner, the set of doors closest to Lelia and Shirley flew open. Jeff Winger burst in, his suit rumpled and a manic gleam in his eye. "Lelia!" he cried, jogging up to her. "Listen, you and I really need to have a talk. It's about Annie, and her mother. It doesn't matter so much what you decide for me, as —"

"People of Greendale!" shouted Pierce from the stage. The dean tried to grab the microphone back, but Pierce elbowed him away. "You all know me as Pierce Hawthorne, leader of the Greendale Seven! Today I come to you with a harrowing tale of deceit and treachery!"

"Now where did _he_ come from?" Lelia asked, exasperated.

"I already have a tale of deceit and treachery, Pierce!" Troy shouted. "Don't copy me!"

"Well don't _you_ copy _me!_ " Pierce shouted back.

"I got here first!"

"Only because someone carried you!"

Annie appeared from behind a curtain up on stage and, without hesitating, snatched the microphone out of Pierce's hands. "You guys," she told them both, "put a pin in it!" She turned and scanned the crowd. "Jeff? Jeff, are you here?"

She beamed when she saw him waving, and beckoned him to the stage.

Lelia followed close behind, reaching the stage at the same time as Jeff. Shirley watched them from the relative safety of the lunch counter — there seemed to be some kind of three-way spirited discussion going on between Lelia, Annie, and Jeff. They seemed to have things under control.

"Shirley!" Britta had run up to the counter in all the confusion. She sagged against it, panting. "I found 'em!" she wheezed, triumph mixed with breathlessness.

"Who?" Shirley saw no one with her.

"The…" Britta gestured over her shoulder, then turned and saw no one was there. "Hold on." She dashed back out of the cafeteria, returning a moment later with a board member on each arm. "Carl and Richie!"

"Hi," said Carl. "Shirley, right? I think we've met."

Shirley nodded.

"Sadie sent them to Orlando," Britta explained, as she caught her breath.

"She stole our passports so we couldn't get back," Richie added.

"No, man, I told you, you don't need a passport to leave Florida, it's cell phones that you can't have," Carl told him.

Up on stage, Annie had secured the microphone in its stand. "Okay, what we're going to do is, Lelia is going to sit here, and the rest of us… we'll just all take turns revealing our tales of deceit and treachery, and our heartwarming exhortations regarding the power of love and friendship, and… what do you have?" she asked the dean.

The microphone didn't pick up his words, only Annie's response.

"Really? Okay, okay. And our Dungeons & Dragons stories, apparently," she said into the mike. "We'll do the Dungeons & Dragons stories last. There might not be time."

* * *

 **30 July 2005**

A cozy living room, professionally decorated, clean except for dog hair collecting in the corners. A half-empty bottle of tequila on the coffee table. Lelia Gilman (now a partner at Denver's third-largest firm), tired and more than a little drunk, sat with half an airedale terrier in her lap. Sadie Edison lay on the sofa, a cushion over her head.

"You'll get through this," Lelia said, trying to reassure her friend. "If anyone can, it's you. You're the strongest woman I know."

"How can I face him?" Sadie cried, not for the first time. Her voice was muffled slightly by the cushion. "How can I go back to him and say… it'll come out all 'oh, sure, it's fine, you can do whatever…' He'll just walk all over me. Again. You know I can't say no to him."

"You've got think about what's best for you," Lelia counseled. "And Annie…"

"Annie! God! See, we can't get a divorce. We can't! It would scar her for life."

"My parents are divorced," Lelia pointed out. "Your parents…"

"And look how we ended up," Sadie said with a bitter laugh. She moved the cushion off her head and sat up. "You remember, at our reception? I offered you Annie and you turned me down."

Lelia sighed ruefully. "If I'd known then what I know now…"

Sadie laughed again, less bitterly. "Stop it! I also said that if the marriage didn't work I'd blame you."

"Yeah, sorry about that. My bad. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you… I'm halfway serious," Lelia said, seeing Sadie's expression. "Just name it."

"Hmm." Sadie made a show of thinking it over.

"You don't have to pick something right now," Lelia assured her. "But if your marriage is ending I don't want you to hold that against me, so…"

Sadie covered her face in her hands. "Oh, God, my marriage is ending. It's okay," she said, sitting up. "I'm drunk enough that it's okay."

"An unlimited number of no-questions-asked favors. You need help hiding his body, or someone to take care of Annie while you're on the lam… hell, I'll shoot him myself, save you the trouble."

"Thanks. I'm lucky to have you." Sadie sighed wistfully. "Would you kill him for me?"

"Of course," Lelia said without hesitation.

"Would you…" Her brow furrowed in concentration. "Would you shoot yourself full of heroin and rob a bank and murder Richard and shout racial slurs in Mrs. Fitzgibbon's sixth-grade class, for me?"

Lelia chuckled. "God, how drunk are you?"

"Pretty drunk. Mostly I'm just tired."

"I would do all of those things for you," Lelia told Sadie. "Speaking as a woman of color, I'd prefer not to have to shout racial slurs at children, but if there was some reason you needed me to do it, I would."

"Thank you," Sadie said solemnly. "I find that a great comfort."

* * *

It was close to an hour later. Most of the student body had wandered off, but enough remained to justify using the microphone and sound system.

Neil had just finished relating the story of how Jeff Winger saved his life using the power of friendship (and shaming Pierce) when Lelia's phone alarm went off. She started awake in her ersatz throne, looking around guiltily, and cleared her throat loudly.

"Can I…?" She indicated the microphone, which Neil handed to her. "Thanks so much, Neil, and thank you everybody, but if I don't leave now I'm going to miss my dinner reservations, so, we'll have to wrap this up. I appreciate everyone taking the time to weigh in on the, uh, Jeff Winger question, and I'm sorry we couldn't get to everybody."

"Can I just say," Pierce said, raising his hand, "I don't come off very well in that story and I blame a short-lived addiction to prescription painkillers? From when Jeff broke both my legs."

Troy, sitting next to Pierce, elbowed him.

"Fine," Pierce said, "Troy broke my legs while Jeff watched."

"Duly noted, and thank you," Lelia told him. She turned to Jeff. "Jeff, I don't know what this place is, but I don't think it's a healthy environment long-term. It's good that you'll all be leaving it soon."

" 'It's good that you'll be leaving it soon' could be this school's motto," Jeff agreed.

"And again, this whole song-and-dance was not in the slightest necessary. After looking into the matter carefully, consulting with two of his three character references, and examining Jeff's academic record, I'm happy to say that there's ample evidence my friend Jeffrey Winger—"

"STOP!" screamed Sadie Parker-Edison, from the doorway.

* * *

 ** _19 April 2009_**

The dining area of a moderately upscale brunch establishment. Satin tablecloths and mimosas. Lelia Gilman, older and wiser, took a sip of coffee as she eyed Sadie Parker-Edison, pale and exhausted, seated across from her.

"I was hoping Annie would be joining us," she said after a silence. "I know she's busy, senior year and all, but I haven't seen her in months."

Sadie shook her head. "No. No, that's… this is about her, actually, why I wanted to see you." She stared at the tablecloth a moment. "Ann is… Ann left."

Lelia sat bolt upright in her seat. "Left? What do you mean, left?"

Sadie hesitated before she answered. "We had a fight. She called me heartless and blamed me for her father leaving… and for other things."

"Other things?" prompted Lelia.

Sadie shook her head. "It's not worth going into. Really." She searched through her purse and retrieved a small pillbox.

Lelia watched Sadie take a pill. The last several years had been hard on Sadie, she knew, and medication was a vital tool, and Sadie had two different doctors she saw regularly and still Lelia worried.

"Her grades are such that she can just skip finals completely and still graduate," Sadie said, after several sips of water. "She's decided to move out to the East Coast for college after all."

Lelia leaned forward. "Harvard, then? She said —"

"That was months ago," Sadie snapped, cutting Lelia off. "It's not Harvard."

"Where, then? I —"

"I'm not going to tell you. I mean, I can't," she amended. "I don't know myself. She said not to contact her. She cancelled her phone, said she'd call if she ever…" Sadie was blinking back tears.

Lelia was baffled; this simply didn't parse. "There's got to be… her email, maybe?"

Sadie shook her head. "I tried to log in to her email — I have her passwords, you know — but she deleted the account."

 _You could have just emailed her, you didn't have to log in as her_ , Lelia thought, but there didn't seem to be much point in voicing that notion. Instead she tried to find solutions. "We'll find her. There must be someone — maybe someone at the high school? I can talk to —"

"No!" Sadie sounded panicky. "No, that would just… don't go looking for her. After the things we said to one another, I don't know if I can bear it. Not right now."

Lelia grimaced. "Annie and I have always…" She struggled to find a way to say it that wouldn't set Sadie off; she concealed poorly her envy of Lelia's relationship with her daughter. It wasn't Sadie's fault, really, Lelia thought. Sadie made Annie eat her vegetables, while Lelia bought her candy.

Sadie shook her head firmly. "I'll handle her. I need you to stay out of it." She leaned forward. "You once promised to do heroin and rob a bank for me, if I asked."

"I…" Lelia sighed. "Of course. You know I'm the captain of Team Mercedes. If you really think it's the best way to deal with her…"

"Yes. No. Just… I'm her mother," Sadie declared. "I'm her mother… or I was."

"You'll always be her mother," Lelia assured her.

* * *

"Hello, dear," Lelia said mildly.

"I demand you stop these proceedings!"

"Demand? You _demand_?" Lelia repeated skeptically. "Maybe if you were here an hour ago, but… some of these people have told stories about you that are very disturbing. And… and Annie's here! _Annie's_ here. Annie's _here."_ Lelia threw up her hands in dismay.

Sadie twitched. "Did I lie to you? Yes. But it was for a good reason. Let me explain."

"Oh, please do. I'd love to hear it."

"But first, there's something more important than that. Do you remember the spring of 1988 and your oh-so-generous gesture? Do you remember my wedding reception, and that night in the hospital?" Sadie pointed accusingly at Lelia. "I warned you."

"What?" Lelia seemed baffled, but then lit up with recognition. She blanched slightly.

"And on July 30th, 2005," Sadie continued, "we agreed to certain terms. You owe me."

Lelia shook her head. "You know I love you, but you've never…"

"It's never been this important before. You owe me, and I'm calling it in."

"It was more than twenty years ago, Sadie, you _can't_ be serious…" Lelia twisted in her seat. "And I just found out Annie's been here, in town, this whole time — this whole time!"

"Abandon me the way everyone else has, if you must… family, friends, my own child…" Sadie glared at Annie. "But before you go, either honor your debt or know that you broke your promise."

Lelia chuckled nervously. "He's not Richard," she said. "You can't blame him for —"

"I can do whatever I want." Sadie glanced around the cafeteria. "You're all lucky I don't burn this place down. Not literally burn," she added testily, "don't be stupid. Shutter Greendale. Sell the assets, fire the staff, and then prop the doors open and let nature take its course, because this place is an abscess. But I'm generous. You can have the board back. You can keep this idiot house full of idiots." She was speaking directly to Jeff now, stomping slowly across the cafeteria towards the stage. "But there's one thing I can take from you, even if it costs me everything I have left. I'm calling in that marker, Lelia." Her eyes never left Jeff's. "This is important to me. This is more important than anything."

Annie caught Lelia's eye. Spring of 1988 would have been the end of Sadie and Lelia's junior year at Colorado College. _What happened?_ she mouthed.

Lelia shook her head slightly and turned away from Annie. "I know these last few years… really, ever since Richard left," she paused to swallow. "I know it's been hard. I don't pretend to understand why you disowned Annie and lied to me, but this… Sadie, I don't think you've thought this through."

Sadie's gaze was steady. "May first. Our room in Montgomery House."

"If you make me do this, then we aren't friends any longer, and I don't want that."

" _Et tu_ , Lelia?" Sadie snapped. "June third! Canongate Country Club!"

Lelia slouched in her seat and said nothing. Sadie was still glaring at Jeff, who stared back at her.

Britta broke the silence. "You know what I think would be the best way to deal with this? If we all went around, one by one, and talked a little bit about what we're feeling right now —"

"You manage to be the worst therapist I've ever met," Sadie told her, "and I have met a statistically significant number of therapists."

Britta fell silent.

"I'm sorry, Jeff. I'm so sorry," Lelia said softly. "I'd be happy to hire you as a paralegal or a consultant…"

"You're going to just — what?" Annie sputtered. "You can't!"

"I'm sorry," Lelia said softly. "I can't refuse her this. I hope you can forgive me."

"Don't blame Lelia. If you must blame someone, blame me. I hope one day you'll understand this," Sadie told Annie. "And you'll recognize that I was right to do it."

Annie tried one last time to reason with her. "I know that when my father left, it hurt you, but.."

"You know?" Sadie circled slowly around Annie. "You think you understand the world. You think you know who you can trust, and who's good and who's bad. You have an arrogant confidence that you won't even recognize in yourself until it's gone. That man will hurt you in ways you don't think it's possible to be hurt. He'll break parts of you that you didn't realize existed, much less could be broken. Hate me if you must but I _will_ spare you that pain."

"Listen to me, Mother, when I say that _I am not you_ and _Jeff is not him_!" Annie spun around, pointing an accusing finger at the crowd. "And don't any of you say anything about Electra, all right?"

"The Spider-Man villain?" Troy whispered to Britta. She opened her mouth to respond, but Troy scoffed. "Wait, why am I asking you…" He shifted to Abed, on his other side. "The Spider-Man villain?"

"Describing father-daughter relationships is always a real minefield," Abed whispered back. "Due to the sexualization of younger women in our culture."

Troy thought about this for a moment. "Gross."

On the stage Annie was fuming. "I've made my choice. What good does it do you to ruin him? You have to just spitefully break what's mine?"

"You're lying to yourself. He isn't yours," Sadie growled. She glanced at Jeff. "And he at least knows I'm right. There's nothing he can offer you. Your life is worse for having him in it. All I can do is make sure that fact eats at him, day by day, until finally he leaves you before he does any more damage."

"And then I'll be doubly miserable," Annie said. "Is that what you want?"

Sadie softened, infinitesimally. "You think it'll be the end of the world to lose him, but life goes on. You'll recover stronger than before. There are better options than this… Even if he were the best man in this hellhole, there's a whole world out there."

"I'm here because of you!" snapped Annie. "You sent me here! No, you sent me to live under a bridge and steal and… eugh!" She shuddered. "Because if I couldn't be your perfect porcelain doll then you didn't want me at all! You buried me like a shameful secret."

"What do you want, an apology? What's the point? What's done is done." Sadie's voice was ice. "Go off with Lelia if you want — you always liked her better anyway. Never speak to me again, if it makes you feel better. But I'm saving you from the worst mistake you'd ever make."

In the ensuing silence, Jeff spoke up. "If this is what it takes for you to leave her alone, and never hurt her again, then I'll take this hit."

Sadie turned to Jeff. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? This is all a victory for you, any way you slice it. I won't give you the satisfaction! I won't!" Her voice hit a familiar register that made Jeff wince.

"Mother, please," Annie pleaded. "Listen to yourself… We don't have to do this, like this."

Sadie shook her head, saying nothing to her daughter. "May first," she told Lelia.

"Enough!" Lelia snapped. "You remember a minute ago when I pointed out that you lied to me for close to five years?"

Sadie stared at her.

"After the day I've had, you come in, snorting and ready to fight, and you crow 'May first' at me like —" Lelia stopped. "You've changed."

Sadie said nothing.

"I'm sorry Jeff," Lelia said without breaking eye contact with Sadie. "Pending approval by the rest of the subcommittee, which let's be honest is a rubber stamp, the Colorado State Bar rescinds its previous provisional suspension and will be initiating disbarment. You'll get the paperwork as soon as I can send it out." She sighed. "Now please leave. I don't want to see you right now," Lelia told Sadie.

"Can I just say," Sadie began.

"No, you can't," Lelia said shortly. "Any further communication between us can be done by Buffy." Lelia glanced at Annie. "Buffy's her other lawyer. Her only lawyer, now."

Sadie drew herself up, and turned to Annie. "You'll thank me some day."

Annie's eyes narrowed. "I won't. I don't know what funhouse-mirror version of the world you see, where this — _this!_ — is the best way to act. Where you know better than I do, this man I've known for years and you've met him, what, twice?"

"Three times," Sadie said quietly.

"Where you know better than me what's best for myself, and where you know better than Aunt Lelia. Better than both of us combined. You know better than everyone! Because you don't make mistakes? You're never wrong?"

Sadie took a step backward. "Not about this," she insisted.

"You lied to me, you lied to her so many times, you bugged my phone… you committed fraud against the Law School Admission Council to submarine me! That's got to be a felony!"

"Actually lying to people is not, strictly speaking, against the law in most cases," Jeff said. "I may be disbarred, but I'm pretty well-versed in that."

"It was all for your own good," Sadie said, her voice unsteady.

"All of it? All of it was for my own good? None of it was to make you feel better? None of it was to make sure that if I wasn't happy on your terms, I couldn't be happy?"

"I'm sorry you can't see — see — see… I'm sorry!" Sadie shouted, her voice breaking at last. She wrenched her gaze away from Annie and buried her face in her hands, standing alone at the bottom of the stage. Tears fell from her cheeks and splashed onto the cafeteria's linoleum floor. "Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think that I enjoyed changing the locks and cancelling your cell phone and… and all of that? Do you think I haven't missed you? But you wouldn't listen to me then, and you won't listen to me now, and if you won't listen to me then all I have is force!"

"You could just ignore her," Jeff murmured to Lelia. "You have this whole complicated thing going on, but… even so."

Lelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I can't," she muttered. "It breaks my heart, but I can't. It would be like cutting off my arm."

Meanwhile Annie was still shouting at her mother. "I won't listen to you? _I_ won't listen to _you_? When have you ever, _ever_ listened to me? Or anyone? All these people are here on his behalf!" She made a sweeping gesture that included the whole room. "I am surrounded, daily, by people who love me and who know me much, much better than you do. I'm not who I used to be! And he isn't Richard Edison!"

Sadie's breath was ragged. "You think you know him, but what you love is a fantasy!"

"He would take a bullet for me, Mother!" Annie shouted.

Sadie tried to laugh contemptuously but her throat kept closing. "You… you may think that…"

"I _know_." Annie's eyes were bright and fierce. "This morning, while you were springing whatever this stupid trap is, he was ducking between me and a crazed gunman!"

"Really?" Lelia's eyes widened. She turned to Jeff. "Really?" she asked him.

Embarrassed, Jeff nodded.

Lelia frowned. She looked Abed's way, scanning his face for confirmation.

Abed nodded slightly.

"Wow," Lelia said. "Good on you, Jeff."

"It turned out it was actually a really loud cap gun," Jeff admitted, "but in the heat of the moment, yeah, I was pretty much a hero."

"Sadie," Lelia called, "why don't you sit down and we have a conversation like we're people? Because otherwise you leave and we're not friends, and I'd rather we not do that."

Sadie stood alone in the open space at the center of the cafeteria, her arms wrapped tightly about her. She looked miserably at Annie, at Lelia, back to Annie…

"He practically took a bullet for her, apparently," Lelia pointed out. "Maybe the man who would have unthinkingly saved your daughter's life at the cost of his own, maybe he should get to be a lawyer? Let's not be hasty."

"Be reasonable, Mother," Annie urged.

"Fine!" Sadie drew herself up to her full height, and took a long, deep breath. "Fine. Do whatever you want," she said. "Go nuts. Marry him, and suffer, and when you're ready to apologize... I'll be waiting." There was a long moment of silence, and then Sadie Parker-Edison spun about and stomped out of the cafeteria.

As soon as she was gone Annie collapsed against Jeff and let out a long ragged sigh. Britta, Troy, Abed, Pierce, Shirley, and Lelia Gilman all rushed to her side.

"Annie, I'm sorry this happened like this, but… it's going to be okay," Lelia told her.

Annie pulled partway out of Jeff's arms and turned to Lelia. "Okay," she said simply.

"Okay?" Lelia repeated, disbelieving.

"I trust you. If I can't trust you, I'd… I'd go kind of crazy. If you say that it's going to be okay, then I believe you." Annie pulled Lelia close to her, and suddenly she was at the nexus of a group hug, with the study group and even the dean joining in.

"You get used to it," Jeff told her from near the center.

"Well, on the plus side, I'm pretty sure I can convince the disciplinary committee to rethink disbarment," Lelia said. "By which I mean I won't mention this whole sad affair to anyone… But I'm going to work this out with your mother," she told Annie. "I'm going to make this right."

Annie tightened the group embrace, feeling Jeff on one side of her and Lelia on the other. "It's already all right."

* * *

END ACT TWO


	40. 4a13: Endgames II Queen and Queen III

ENDGAMES II: QUEEN AND QUEEN

ACT THREE

* * *

Weeks later, at the very waning of the year, Annie celebrated her twenty-second birthday with a party, as was traditional. Though she'd been living more at Jeff's apartment than her own, she staged the party at the apartment she shared with Troy and Abed, if for no other reason than to avoid sending the wrong message to Doreen.

Jeff's mother spent most of the party ensconced on the sofa, reminiscing about Jeff's childhood with Lelia Gilman, or watching Shirley's kids play.

"So you're Annie's aunt?" Doreen asked Lelia, at one point.

Lelia nodded.

"Do you mind if I ask…?"

"We're not blood relatives," Lelia said. "I'm… I used to be very close with her mother."

"Ah." Doreen nodded. "I don't mean to be rude, but I did wonder. I know she's Jewish, and I know Israel is, um, right there in the Middle East…"

Lelia nodded. "No offense taken."

"So, where are you from?"

"Boulder, originally…"

"I don't mean to be rude," Doreen repeated.

"It's fine, it's fine. I know what you mean. My mother emigrated from Isfahan, in Iran… have you seen the movie _Persepolis_?"

"The cartoon?" Doreen lit up. "Oh, yes! That was a very good movie! Was it like that?"

Lelia shook her head ruefully. "I'm told it was nothing like that. She came here before I was born, in the '60s."

"Oh." Doreen took a nervous sip of wine.

Lelia smiled. " _Persepolis_ was a good movie, though, wasn't it?"

Doreen nodded. "I used to take Jeff to all the Disney cartoon movies," she said, as though confiding a secret. "Everything from _Oliver and Company_ to… I think the last one was _Aladdin_ , and then he declared himself too old for them."

"I remember taking Annie to see _Mulan_ ," Lelia said wistfully. "And _Tarzan_ … and the second _Fantasia_ movie."

" _Fantasia 2000_! I made Jeff take me to that one." Doreen smiled at the memory.

* * *

"Well if it isn't Mister Edison," Britta said, sitting down next to Jeff.

"Please. Mister Edison is by all accounts a loathsome human being," Jeff said.

"Mister Winger?" she offered.

"And that just sounds like my father. Another awful human being."

"I'm seeing a pattern here." Britta nodded thoughtfully. "You know who else was called Mister? Adolf Hitler."

"He was called the Führer."

"That's just German for Mister."

"No, 'Herr' is German for Mister."

"Hair is German fur-mister?" Britta repeated. "Now you're just saying nonsense words."

"I used to think you were smart," grumbled Jeff.

"Hey, I'm very smart!" Britta protested. "Ask anyone at the AC Repair Annex."

They were companionably quiet for a few moments.

"You know what's weird?" Britta asked. "I'm in a relationship with Troy and you're in a relationship with Annie."

"Mmm-hmmm." Jeff nodded.

"We're both more mature than we used to be. And our partners are younger than we are… there's some irony there." Britta cocked her head. "I'm not expressing it very well, but it's there."

"Well, as you know Annie is remarkable along every measurable axis," Jeff said.

"Sure, whatever. But the reason your relationship works is because you're both kind of childish," Britta said. "Me and Troy, though, we have an adult relationship."

"The last time I saw you and Troy together before this was the big Christmas-New-Year's-Kwanza-Heat-Pump-Appreciation-Week Custodial Ball," Jeff countered. "You bobbed for apples. There's nothing remotely adult about that."

Britta rolled her eyes. "Please, we're way more mature than you. Your relationship is all candyfloss and kissing and opera-level angst!"

"Your relationship is apparently based on mead! We're more mature!"

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

* * *

Abed was looking pensive, so Troy sauntered his way. "What up, dude?" he asked, generously handing Abed one of his two slices of birthday cake.

"I'm getting that endgame vibe again," Abed announced. "Cheery epilogue. The drama of the story over, with maybe a hint of a possible but unpromised sequel. Like the blue Force ghosts in the Ewok village at the end of _the Return of the Jedi_."

"My third-favorite _Star Wars_ movie," Troy said agreeably.

Abed frowned. "Time is slipping through our fingers. There's just one semester after this, and who knows what happens then? Will we look back on this time and regret the almost total lack of our traditional Troy-Abed hijinks?"

"What are you talking about, man?" Troy asked, puzzled.

"You've been so busy with Britta –"

"We had that whole Halloween diamond heist," Troy pointed out. "And the big pie-eating contest at midterms."

"Even so –"

"On Columbus Day we did an entire three-act romcom, man, just you and me and Garret working the camera!"

"None of those count," Abed said. "They weren't central to the plot of the semester. This semester has revolved around Jeff and Annie. All our stunts could just be on the cutting room floor, destined for the deleted scenes roll on the DVD set."

"Nah, man! Become the ruling body, dude! Don't just passively accept the idea that you're stuck playing a supporting role in your own life! Look at me," Troy slapped his chest. "I've fully embraced my role as the Super-Jesus of the Air Conditioning Repair School. And that's as real as it gets."

Abed stared at Troy with an intensity that even Troy found a little unsettling. "You do know the AC Repair Annex is just a Dreamatorium simulation, right? It doesn't exist outside the refrigerator box under my bed." He pointed at the cardboard Dreamatorium-closet, half-hidden by hung blankets.

Troy laughed, then did a double take. His eyes widened. "Really?" he whispered.

Abed waited a beat. "No," he admitted. "I'm just messing with you."

"How can I be sure?!" Troy felt his pockets and found the ceremonial Air Conditioning Repair School Seal of Office, which was far too heavy and jewel-encrusted to be a mere prop. Probably. "Are these even real emeralds?"

* * *

Annie beamed as she handed Pierce a slice of cake. "Enjoy!"

"Thank you, Annie," he said. "See, it's little things like this that are the reason you're my favorite. Way more than Britta."

"I'm literally standing right here," asserted Britta.

"Pierce!" chided Annie.

"I was being funny! Humor is a great surcease," Pierce declared.

Annie's brow wrinkled. "I'm almost positive you're using that word wrong."

"Well, irregardless," said Pierce, giving up, "happy birthday."

"Thanks!"

"And I have good news." He paused to take a bite of birthday cake.

"You're dying of brain cancer?" asked Britta hopefully.

Pierce looked stung. "What? No! That's awful, how could you even…"

"A little over the top, Britta," agreed Annie.

"I was being funny! Wasn't that a surcease?"

"To be funny, you have to be funny," Pierce told her.

"What's the good news, Pierce?" Annie asked, more to head off further argument than anything else.

"Mercedes had talked me out of it, but she isn't returning my calls so screw it." Pierce scowled at the reference to Sadie, despite the fact that he was the one who made it. "I called the dean of admissions over at DU Law, and long story short, they'll look at your LSATs if you take the test at the next available date."

"Aw!" Annie cooed. "You didn't have to… thanks, Pierce."

"I know you don't want special treatment just because you're my favorite," Pierce said, "but after all the rigamarole that Mercedes did to you…"

"I'd processed and accepted that, yes."

"You still have to get in on your own merits," Pierce said.

Annie nodded. "Right."

"It's not at all a sure thing. Except of course I'm confident you can do it, given your history of accomplishments."

"Thanks."

* * *

Abed cornered Shirley in the kitchen. "You're familiar with _the Return of the Jedi_ ," he said.

"You know," mused Shirley, "I think I do more cooking in this kitchen than you do."

"Specifically the sequence where Luke Skywalker confronts Darth Vader," Abed continued.

"I wash the dishes, I put them up, and they're all in exactly the same place when I come back, even if it's two months later." Shirley eyed a particular bowl. "Except this bowl. Is this the bowl you use to make buttered noodles?"

Abed nodded. "Initially I thought the triptych of Annie, her mother, and Lelia Gilman mapped to a magical princess, an evil queen, and a fairy godmother."

"Is Andre watching the kids?" Shirley craned her neck to see around Abed. Then she sighed. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"But in fact, I think it's much more the case that Annie is Luke Skywalker and her mother is Darth Vader. You have the controlling parent, the rebellious child, they both use the same tool – the Force, in this case, is emotional manipulation and control – but in the end good triumphs because evil cannot bear itself. When you come right down to it, Sadie Parker-Edison is just Annie plus extra bitterness and minus all compassion and respect for others' abilities to make their own decisions."

Shirley folded her arms. "I see where you're going but I feel like you're kind of overstating it."

"Just as Luke Skywalker defeated Darth Vader by refusing to surrender to hate, so too did Annie eventually triumph over Sadie Parker-Edison by not trying to control every aspect of everything around her."

"Hmm." Shirley thought it over. "Maybe. I guess I can see it… but what about Lelia?"

"Lelia Gilman is the blue Force ghost of Obi-Wan Kenobi," Abed declared. "She advises, she offers moral support, she has a unique perspective on the essential humanity of the villain, but she's powerless to act directly."

* * *

Towards the end of the evening, during the twenty minutes it took Shirley and Andre to get all of their children and all of their children's coats in one place, Pierce strolled down to street level without anyone noticing. "I thought about bringing you some birthday cake," he said to the dark figure lurking in a nearby alley, "but I only give cake to people I like."

Sadie Parker-Edison, her small body lost in a huge parka, nodded. It was a maneuver that, for Pierce to be able to see it, required bending at the waist. "I suppose I deserve that. Thank you for answering my text message, Pierce."

"It's almost New Year's," Pierce said. "Never carry a grudge or a debt into the new year, that's what my father used to say. Not that he practiced what he preached, oh no…"

Sadie cleared her throat. "I take it my daughter is as well as can be expected?"

"Eh? Yes, yes," Pierce said. "Annie's going to be fine. She's got a lot of people who love her."

"I suppose Lelia's up there." Sadie stared longingly at the building.

"Yeah," Pierce said, nodding. "She brought Annie a bottle of blue label whisky, said it was a belated 21st birthday present."

Sadie sighed, and said nothing.

"I went ahead and made that call, by the way," Pierce said after a silence. "To the law school."

"That's fine," Sadie said, to Pierce's surprise. "It doesn't matter. I want her to do well and be happy, after all. If law school could really make her happy… if that man can actually treat her right, well. That's all I've ever wanted for her." She smiled wanly. "That and straight teeth. I managed that one, at least."

"Uh, yeah," he said, because he felt like he should say something.

"I'm sorry I blocked your number and deleted all your messages unread," Sadie told Pierce. "I tend to shut people out when I'm upset. I was upset."

"I guessed that when you ran sobbing from the cafeteria."

"Yes, well. I've unblocked you," she added.

"Ah. That's a good start," Pierce replied, unsure as to how far down this road he wanted to go.

"I'm also sorry about all those felonies I committed."

"Don't worry," he assured her, "no one seemed particularly into the idea of prosecuting you. Annie least of all."

"Very generous of her," Sadie said. "That's all Lelia, I'm sure. I could never be so generous."

"Mmm," grunted Pierce. "Well, great. I should get back upstairs."

"Of course." Sadie lifted her arms in what it took Pierce a moment to recognize as opening them for a hug – it was a _very_ large and heavy parka.

Against his better judgement, Pierce leaned down and gave her a quick embrace. "Happy New Year," he said.

"Happy New Year," she replied as she let him go. "And if, in the new year, you find yourself seeking a dinner companion who appreciates wine and… and so on… I hope you'll at least consider calling me."

"We'll see," said Pierce, although he already knew he would.

* * *

It wasn't until hours later that Jeff and Annie got back to his apartment: they stayed, cleaning up, until everyone else had left, and not everyone had small children or cats to feed/bathe/put to bed. Lelia Gilman in particular had to be levered out of the apartment with a crowbar. By the time Jeff and Annie were finally done for the day it was after midnight.

Annie yawned as they stumbled into his living room. "That was really nice," she said, to herself as much as to Jeff. "But it's good to be home."

"Mmm-hmm." Behind her, Jeff nodded in agreement as he removed his coat. Then he and Annie both froze, realizing what she'd just said.

"Not that this is my home," Annie said slowly. She winced as she slowly turned. "I mean, this is your…" Annie sighed in relief when she saw his grin. "You know what I meant!" she said, matching his grin.

"Oh, I think I know exactly what you meant," he said smugly, as he began peeling off her coat, too.

"I just meant… I've been sleeping here more often than not… and…" Annie trailed off; his hands on her were very distracting. "Jeff!"

"You've cleaned the bathroom here more in the last month than I did in six months before that," Jeff observed. "You keep bringing over overnight bags and emptying them here like you think I won't notice."

"You said I could have a drawer!" she protested.

He continued, "I know there's a whole set of brushes and sponges and disinfectants under the sink that didn't used to be there, and I can't remember the last time I made dinner for one. You've gotten mail here."

"It was one Christmas card! And it was from Abed!" She pulled him into the bedroom, laughing. "You goof!"

"I think I know what you mean, but how can we be sure?" He hugged her close to him. "So you want to do this? Can you face the scandal?"

"Well, it is almost 2013. Time for new beginnings. And I don't know how you've managed to survive this long without me…"

"I don't either," Jeff said softly, with an intensity that surprised her. Then, lighter, "Do I need to ask you, and phrase it just right?"

"No!" She light swatted his chest. "I'm actually pretty confident we're on the same page."

Jeff cleared his throat. "Annie Edison," he said formally, "would you do me the honor of becoming my…" He coughed suddenly. "You wanna move in with me?"

She laughed. "What was that? I thought you were supposed to be eloquent."

"I was going to say, become my live-in maid and sexual plaything," Jeff said, bracing himself as she swatted at him a third time. "Didn't think I could pull it off, though."

Her eyes gleamed in the dark. "Yeah, that was a smart impulse… tell you what, _you_ can be _my_ live-in sexual plaything and cook, and we'll take turns with cleaning and laundry."

"Deal," Jeff said promptly. "Assuming by taking turns you mean you doing it most of the time."

"That was kind of implied," Annie admitted.

They lay together, quietly, for a few heartbeats, while it sank in.

"So," Annie broke the silence. "We're going to do this?"

"I think so." Jeff sounded quietly amazed. "Unless you want to find a bigger place. This is technically only a three-quarters-bathroom, three-quarters-bedroom apartment."

"Three-quarters bedroom?" She raised an eyebrow. "Ooh, we could get somewhere with a porch, and airedale terriers… I'll make a list."

"I don't think many apartments come equipped with airedale terriers, plural."

"Spoken like a man who hasn't checked the real estate listings… you know, Abed predicted this."

"He predicted that at…" Jeff checked the time. "12:14 in the AM on New Year's Eve you'd spring _multiple airedale terriers_ on me?"

Annie snuggled into Jeff's side, feeling his arm wrapped around her. "You can think that if you want… No, he said I'd move in with you and that Britta would move in with him and Troy and then she'll move to Dallas when they break up…"

Jeff chuckled. "Dallas?"

Annie nodded, though she knew he couldn't see. "Abed thinks Dallas is going to become America's cultural center when the big puppetry craze of the 2020s really takes off there. He also thinks Troy and Britta are going to break up in about a decade, so, that checks out. And Troy is going to invent dance-pants in 2019. Abed thinks a lot of things, is my point." Annie lifted her head to look Jeff in the eye. "I told him it wasn't going to happen any time soon, but here we are. You think…?"

"Absolutely," Jeff reassured her. "We are _killing_ this."

* * *

THE END


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